Future Imperfect
by SSG Michael B Jackson
Summary: Set approx. five years after SOS and involving most of the EC world. This is also a timetravel crossover with an original future history of my own conception. Check it out!
1. Chapter 1

_**I own nothing that has anything to do with Earth's Children and am in no way affiliated with Jean M. Auel. I've just been reading her books since I was a kid and enjoy writing in her world, so here's hoping she doesn't decide to sue me; I'm just a poor Soldier with a wife and four (soon to be five) kids, after all!**_

_Well, I've been slowly working this story up on the web site for a few months now and figured I might as well mirror it over here. Hope you enjoy this and please take a moment to review if you like what you see (or if you don't; constructive criticism is always good!)_

**Future Imperfect**

**By SSG Michael B. Jackson**

The young woman was in trouble, and she knew it. More than that, as little as she wanted to admit it, she knew that the predicament she was in was her own fault. If she'd had the good sense to winter over with the river folk as the rest of the trading party she'd been traveling with had done, not to mention begged her to do as well, she'd be warm and cozy now instead of slogging her way through ice and blowing snow in the middle of Duna-only-knew-where. More than likely, she thought ruefully, she'd be sitting beside a nice warm fire right now, swapping stories with old friends and new acquaintances and drinking some hot tea or maybe something a bit stronger. Yes, she thought to herself, it certainly sounded wonderful.

But rather than stay the winter as common sense would dictate, she'd decided to push on instead. It had only been early fall, she'd told herself, and with the sturdy jet-black mare who'd been her closest and most beloved companion for the past three years, she knew she could move much faster than she had with the trading party. She'd reasoned that she should be able to travel fast enough to reach her goal, a camp of the mammoth hunting people who lived beyond the end of the Great River, before hard winter set in.

It had seemed like a decent plan at the time, especially since the traders had no intention of going any further than the Sharamudoi settlement. No, she'd thought, if she wanted to meet the Mamutoi she'd heard so much about, then she had to push on by herself. Still, she realized now, it wouldn't have killed her to have stayed the winter with the hospitable river folk and continued on in the spring, whereas taking off as she had might very well end up doing just that.

She sighed as these bleak thoughts crossed her mind and, pulling the hood of her fur-lined parka just a bit lower over her forehead, leaned into the snow-choked headwind she'd been fighting for what seemed forever now. Behind her, head also bowed in apparent resignation, the black mare plodded along as well, tethered to the young woman by a short thong.

Normally the woman would've been astride her friend's back, but conditions had worsened to the point that riding was no longer possible. Not only that, but caught as they were out on the open steppes, with little shelter available and none visible through the driving snow, the pair had little choice but to continue moving. To stop now, without at least a semi-protected area to set up the traveling tent carried in one of the pack baskets on the mare's back would be worse than useless, the woman knew. If she tried to set it up in the open, the wind would most likely just snatch it away from her, and then where would she be? Well, she admitted to herself, probably not much worse off than she was right now.

Still, she thought, trying to be optimistic, the situation wasn't hopeless. There was at least a chance that she might happen across shelter of some kind; even on the open prairie there were occasional stands of stunted trees, streambeds and other natural features that might prove suitable to set up her tent in or around. And if she could manage that, she knew she could very quickly have a fire kindled with the precious firestone she carried. She had a few lumps of the burning stone in her emergency supplies, carried with her all the way from home for just such an emergency, and she was sure that it would last long enough for her to warm up and find more conventional fuel. Yes, if she could find shelter of any kind, she figured she'd be alright. But it was a big 'if' at best, she feared.

As she and the horse plodded along, the young woman kept a constant eye out for the shelter they sought. The visibility was near zero by then, but that only made it more imperative that she keep a sharp lookout; they could pass within a few feet of potential shelter in this weather and never see it if she didn't. It was because of that increased vigilance, then, that she noticed something out of place just off to the right of their path and slightly ahead.

Frowning, she considered for a moment, and almost passed whatever it was by; it wasn't as if she had the time to stop and investigate every odd thing they encountered just now. Still, there was something about this particular aberration, an uneven lump in the snow as near as she could tell through the driving whiteness, that gave her pause. Then, with a gasp of mixed surprise and horror, she realized why; a human body covered over with snow would look remarkably like the anomaly she saw before her.

Momentarily forgetting her own plight, the young woman hurried forward, pulling the horse with her. Dropping to her knees beside the lump in the snow, she began to brush at it furiously, fearing what she'd find underneath. Sure enough, within a few moments she began to see flesh under the snow, naked flesh no less, and it was with a sense of dread that she continued to uncover the person buried there, a young woman by the look of it. She was no Losaduna, but it didn't take one to realize that no one could survive conditions like these unclothed for more than a few minutes at most, and so she was sure that she was only exhuming a corpse. That being the case, the shriek of terror that escaped her lips when a hand suddenly shot up from the 'corpse's' side and grasped her wrist in a viselike grip was completely understandable.

The young woman backpedaled violently, yanking her wrist free of the other's grasp and falling on her backside in the snow in her haste. Heedless of the wet snow being forced into her trousers by the motion, she continued to push herself backwards for a few more feet, and behind her the dark mare neighed loudly in reaction to the woman's fright. To her front, the other woman, who should so obviously be dead, stirred slightly, trying to lift her head, and mumbled something that was completely lost to the wind.

The young woman sat stock still for a moment, frozen with fear, but the rational part of her mind soon took over. The woman in front of her didn't appear to be a spirit of any sort; she seemed solid enough. And since the young woman had never heard any tales of animate corpses or the like, it seemed only logical to assume that, somehow, this woman was still alive. 'Maybe', the young woman thought, 'I found her not long after she collapsed here. Though Duna only knows where she came from or how she got here.'

With that thought, the young woman regained her feet and hurried to her horse, realizing that even if the other woman was alive now, she probably wouldn't stay that way for long without help. And when it came to helping someone in need, the young woman had particularly strong feelings. There had been a time in her life when she'd needed help, and at first it hadn't been there. As a result, she'd suffered an ordeal that many young women would never have recovered from, and she was sure that if the help she'd needed hadn't come along when it did, she wouldn't have either. Consequently, it had become very important to her ever since to provide help to those in need whenever and however she could; so important, in fact, that she had seriously considered dedicating herself to the service of the Mother and had even trained as an acolyte for a time with the Losaduna of her Cave and his mate.

But eventually it had become apparent to all of them that while she had a certain amount of talent for healing and a definite gift with animals, her path lay in a different direction. She'd proved to be a fair student, but she was far too restless to assume the role of One Who Served. A part of her just wasn't content to stay there around the Cave, waiting for those who might need her help to come to her. She knew, as well as anyone else who lived in the harsh glacial lands of her world that disaster often struck far away from an established cave or camp and when it did, the results were often tragic. People who could have been saved if the right person had been there, a person who had the skills and abilities to help, often died or, like she herself had, suffered a fate that in some ways was even worse than death. All because that critical person might be a day's walk away, sitting at his or her hearth with no idea that he or she was needed elsewhere.

These thoughts had come to the young woman gradually, over the course of several years, and once they had she'd finally understood the source of her restlessness, the reason that the path of the Losaduna hadn't seemed right for her from the beginning; she wanted to **be** that person. She wanted to be the one who was there at the right time and place, with all the requisite skills to make a difference for others.

That was one of the reasons, she'd realized then, that in addition to her studies with the Losaduna and his mate, she'd felt driven over the years to spend as much time with Laduni and the hunters of the Cave of the Sacred Hot Springs as she could, much to the consternation of her mother.

Pushing her reminiscences aside for the moment, the young woman tore through one of the pack baskets hanging on the mare's left flank. Finally she found what she was looking for, her sleeping fur, and without wasting any more time jogged to the other woman's side. Kneeling, she draped the fur over the woman and, yelling to make herself heard over the wind said, "Here! Wrap this around yourself as best you can! It will have to keep you warm until I can find shelter for us!"

The young woman wasn't sure if the other understood her or not, but she did grasp the fur with her icy-cold but still surprisingly strong fingers and tuck it in around herself as tightly as possible.

'From bad to worse,' the young woman thought gloomily, moving back toward the horse once more. 'I was in enough trouble before when it was just Shadow and me. I don't even know how I'm going to save the two of us, much less a half-frozen stranger.' Then, frowning at her pessimism as she grasped the horse's lead and brought her forward, she thought, 'Still, I guess the only thing I can do now is try.'

She led the mare forward until she was a few feet past the prone woman, bringing the travois she dragged behind her just even with her. Then, kneeling beside the stranger once more and placing a hand lightly on the fur wrapped around her, she said, "I need to get you up onto the travois! It'll be a lot easier if you can help me, even a little!"

Again, she doubted that the other woman understood her, but at least she responded to the sound of her voice. Moving the fur slightly, the woman exposed her face, her pinched expression reflecting her discomfort at the cold, and turned to look at the young woman questioningly.

Sighing resignedly, the young woman pointed toward the travois and, speaking slowly, this time in the broken Mamutoi she'd managed to pick up from the Mamutoi woman, Tholie, in the week or so of her stay with the Sharmudoi, said, "I must… make you up on… thing there, behind horse! Can you I help?"

The puzzled and slightly dazed look on the other woman's face convinced the young woman that her words had been no more comprehensible in Mamutoi than they had been in Losadunai, but she'd also been gesticulating in an exaggerated manner to get her point across and the other seemed to catch the gist of what she wanted. At any rate, with a slight nod and a sigh of her own, the other woman pulled the fur a bit tighter around herself and, with the young woman's assistance, struggled at least partway to her feet.

From there, it was relatively simple to get her settled on the travois, but the effort seemed to take all of whatever strength the woman had. By the time the young woman had her positioned and the fur snugly tucked, the other woman's eyes were closed and she seemed to have either fallen asleep or lost consciousness, though a quick check revealed that her chest still rose and fell regularly, confirming that she still lived.

Satisfied that she'd done all that she could for now, the young woman moved forward and, taking hold of the mare's lead again, once more began to plod ahead. She tried to keep her spirits up as she moved out, but in her heart she knew how desperate her situation was and the insidious cold that was beginning to seep through the heavy, insulated layers of her outer-wear only served to confirm her fears. If she didn't find a refuge of some sort soon, her attempt to assist the strange woman would be for naught, and there would be three frozen carcasses left for someone to find instead of one.

A few minutes later, however, the young woman's black thoughts were abruptly dispelled as a most welcome sight slowly made itself apparent through the wall of blowing whiteness. Ahead of them, there was an abrupt change in the character of the land, a down-sloping that almost certainly led to a cut in the landscape, a stream bed most likely, or maybe even a small valley. Either way, it was just what they needed at that moment, and the young woman gave her unreserved thanks to Duna for her beneficence.

As the young woman carefully led the black mare over the edge and down the rather steep slope into what proved to be a fairly substantial frozen watercourse, she noticed something perhaps even more welcome and useful than the shelter itself; people! Not more than a few yards from where they'd entered the streambed, a small cluster of perhaps four or five traveling tents were set up, hugging the earthen wall of the watercourse and protected by it's slight overhang. Apparently, she thought, she hadn't been the only one caught out in the surprise blizzard.

Then, frowning slightly, the thought crossed her mind that she had no idea who these people were or how hospitable they might be to strangers, especially under the present circumstances. It wasn't like she hadn't had bad experiences with strangers in the past, after all. Still, she realized, she was here now, and there was no way she was leaving the streambed until the storm had blown itself out. That being the case, she was going to have to meet these people eventually, so she figured she might as well get it out of the way first thing. Having come to that decision, the young woman immediately turned to her left, heading for the nearest of the tents with the mare and her charge in tow behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, here's chapter 2. I know that at least a dozen people have looked at this so far (that whole Stats thing, you know) and I would appreciate it if someone, anyone, would take a minute or so to review and let me know what I'm doing, right and wrong. It's the only way I can make this better over time. Thanks._

When she reached the tent, the young woman reached out her mitten-clad hand and, observing common courtesy even in her present dire situation, scratched as forcefully on the outer door-flap as she could, trying to make herself heard over the howling winds.

Several moments passed, making the young woman wonder whether she'd been heard or not, and then the heavy leather drape began to ripple as someone inside undid whatever fastenings held it shut. A moment later, the door-flap was pulled open just enough to reveal the surprised face of a red-haired young man, perhaps the tallest man the young woman had ever seen to judge by how high up his head poked out of the tent. In fact, unless he were standing on something hidden by the still mostly closed flap, the young woman figured that she, not a short woman by any means, wouldn't stand any higher than this man's chest!

Taken a bit aback by the apparent giant in front of her, the young woman took an involuntary step back, while the young man, still wearing an expression of amazement at having found someone else foolhardy enough to be caught out in the blizzard, glanced quickly over his shoulder and yelled, "Talut! I was right! There is someone out here, and she looks as though she could use a hand!"

The man's words had been spoken in the Mamutoi tongue, so the young woman understood the gist of what he'd said, and she felt some measure of relief immediately. By all accounts, the Mamutoi, the people she'd come so far to visit in the first place, were a friendly, outgoing, and hospitable people. And the name the man had called out, Talut… she'd heard that name before. She was sure it was one of the names mentioned by the enigmatic, almost magical young woman who'd spent far too short a time at the Cave of the Sacred Hot Springs over five years before; the woman named Ayla who, she firmly believed, had played a critical role in giving her life back to her.

As that realization came to her, the young woman felt a momentary chill that had nothing to do with the blizzard still raging around her; could it be sheer coincidence that the inhospitable weather had brought both her and the very people she'd been so hoping to meet here to this unlikely refuge at the same time? Or was there some other force at work?

But before the young woman could ponder this uncomfortable line of thought any further, the tent flap was thrown open, and the young man, an older man who could've been the younger's twin if not for his age, and a young woman of perhaps thirteen years all came trooping out, throwing on parkas as they came.

While the other two made for the young woman's horse, the younger man turned to her and said, "Don't worry about unloading right now! There's room for you in our tent until this thing blows over! Talut and Rugie will take your horse over behind the windbreak we set up for Latie's horse, Amber. There should be enough space for both of them there!"

Shaking her head emphatically, the young woman turned and, striding toward the travois behind the horse with it's amorphous and unidentifiable load wrapped in her sleeping fur said, "No! Not yet! Need help with… sick woman! Find just few… minute ago! Cold, very cold! Almost dead with cold!"

Frowning, the young red-haired man followed her to the travois and said, "Did I understand you right? Are you saying that that bundle on your travois is a person?"

The young woman nodded vigorously, already working to rouse the woman enough to get her inside the tent. But before she could see any results from her efforts, the young man was at her side and, laying a gigantic but surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder said, "Don't worry about getting her up; I can take care of that."

With that, he knelt down, the top of his head still as high as her shoulder, the young woman noted with some awe, and reaching carefully under the still tucked fur lifted the bundled woman effortlessly off the travois. Turning toward the tent, he said, "Come on! Let's get inside and see what can be done for this woman before we all freeze!" Then, considering, he turned his head toward the horse's front where the older man was, the horse's halter in his hand, and bellowed over the wind, "Talut! Tell Latie to come over here when you put the horse away! We may need her help with this woman!"

The older man nodded and began to move toward one of the other tents, the black mare in tow behind him. The girl-woman who'd accompanied him out of the tent was nowhere in sight, presumably having gone ahead to prepare a space for the new horse.

The young woman was momentarily non-plused by these people's swift acceptance and knowledgeable handling of her friend, not to mention the fact that apparently one of their number had a horse of her own. But, she thought, it only made sense, really. These were the people who'd adopted Ayla; she'd spent something like a year with them from what the young woman understood. It was only natural that they would have adopted Ayla's innovations along with her.

In fact, now that she thought about it, many of the people she'd encountered on her way seemed to have some knowledge of Ayla and her mate, Jondalar, as well as the tamed animals and new inventions they'd brought with them. They had, the young woman realized, touched many lives on their long Journey, and from what she knew had left all of them better off than they'd found them. Certainly hers had been one of those.

She'd realized some of this before, but it wasn't until that instant that the full realization crystallized for her. And in that brief epiphany, she realized something else; whether they knew it or not, Ayla and Jondalar had become a great force for good throughout the lands they'd traveled. They'd made lasting changes for so many people that legends were beginning to be spread about them; she'd heard some of them from traveling Storytellers both at her home Cave and along her way here.

The young woman pondered this as she followed the young man back to the tent, remembering that, as a young and vulnerable girl, fresh from an experience that no one should ever have to endure, she'd fixated on the amazing woman who'd helped her so much in such a short time. She'd thought then that she would give almost anything to be like her heroine in some way, but she had never been sure just how. At that time, she'd thought that she wanted to re-live Ayla's life and adventures, to meet all the exotic people that Ayla had met and to be showered with beautiful gifts as she had. And that had been enough for a time.

Those thoughts had gotten her through each day, and eventually through her Rites of First Pleasures which had, thanks to careful screening of potential candidates by Losaduna, been an actual pleasure after all. But eventually, as she grew and matured, gaining self-confidence through her own achievements, she'd come to realize that reenacting someone else's life would be a hollow, empty thing; she had to find her own path. And while it was true that that path had led her back along much of Alya's, she'd done the things she'd done for her own reasons. She knew that she had skills and talents, but what she wanted most was experience, something that could only be gained by getting out and seeing the world.

A long Journey had seemed the best way to accomplish that, and given the choice of going east or west, she'd chosen east. Everything that lay to the west was fairly well known, and, so far as such thing went in her day and age, relatively civilized. Everyone was familiar with the Lanzadonii and their Zelandonii cousins, but much less was known about the lands to the east. In fact, aside from the occasional Storyteller or trader coming from S'Armunai or Sharamudoi territory, all that the young woman had ever heard about the lands to the east had come from Ayla and Jondalar. It had seemed to her that there was much more to be learned by going in that direction.

Also, though she was loathe to admit it, especially to herself, there was another reason the young woman hadn't wanted to travel to the west, at least not yet. While she genuinely missed Ayla and Jondalar and very much wanted to see them again some day, in her heart she'd come to feel over the years that she just couldn't face either of them until she was, well, worthy. Her hero worship hadn't died over the years, but it had changed and matured along with her. As she'd come to realize what truly extraordinary people Ayla and her mate were, she'd also realized that before she saw them again she wanted to be extraordinary in some way herself. She wanted them to be able to be proud of the person she'd become. It never occurred to her that in their eyes she was already extraordinary to have overcome what she had, and that they'd both been proud of her from the day they'd met her.

As they entered the tent, the young woman took a quick glance around, seeing much of what she'd expected to see; a traveling tent was a traveling tent, after all. It's construction appeared mostly familiar, a hide tent with a tough ground cover, though there were a few differences from what she was used to. It was basically conical in shape with a center pole holding it up, and there was a hastily constructed stone hearth near the center in which a small but very welcome fire burned. Arranged around this were at least three sets of sleeping furs, with haversacks and other traveling gear filling most of the available space left over. Certainly nothing luxurious, but infinitely better than being unprotected on the steppes above as she had so recently been.

The young man had laid the half-frozen woman as near to the central hearth as he thought was safe as soon as he'd entered the tent, and made sure that she remained well bundled up. Once that was done, he'd immediately retrieved a small woven cooking basket from one of the haversacks and filled it with water from a water skin lying nearby and then put several small stones, obviously carried along for that purpose, into the fire to heat.

With all that out of the way, he turned to the young woman and said, "Well, now there's not much else to do until my sister, Latie, gets here. She's no mamut, but she's the closest thing to a healer we have with us I'm afraid." Then, flushing slightly, the young man said, "I'm sorry, where are my manners? Proper introductions seem to have gotten lost in the shuffle, but it looks like we have time now."

With that, the young man stood up to as much of his prodigious height as the traveling tent would allow and, raising both hands in a gesture of greeting said, "I am Danug, a flint knapper of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, son of Nezzie, mate of the headman of Lion Camp, Talut, to whose hearth I was born. In the name of Mut, Mother of all, I greet you."

The young woman, brought up just as well and no less courteous, reached up to clasp Danug's outstretched hands and replied, "I Madenia of Cave of… Blessed Hot Waters of Losadunai, daughter of Verdegia and… friend of Ayla of Mamutoi. In name of Duna, also named Mut, I greet you, Danug of Lion Camp of Mamutoi."


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, here's chapter 3 and thanks to those who took a few minutes to review. Hope this is to your liking and hope to hear from you if so!_

As Madenia concluded her introduction, Danug's eyes widened and he said in an incredulous tone, "Ayla! Did you just say that you know Ayla!"

Smiling at the young man's shocked expression, Madenia said, "Yes, know Ayla. Meet her few… season-cycles? Is right word?"

Shaking his head gently, Danug said, "I think the word you're looking for is years. Do you mean that you met her a few years ago?"

Madenia nodded and said, "Yes, meet her few years ago. She stop Cave of Blessed Hot Waters with man she soon mate, Jondalar. Not stay long, but both help me much. I have… bad problem then; Ayla, Jondalar help."

Danug nodded and, a slow grin coming to his lips said, "That sounds like the Ayla and Jondalar I remember." Then, considering, he said, "I don't suppose you have any idea what happened to them after they left your Cave, do you?"

"I hear stories," Madenia said, and then, glancing toward the half-frozen stranger, "But should I say all now? We busy soon, I think." Finally, in a slightly awkward tone she said, "Uh, sorry, can have hands back now?"

Flushing crimson, Danug glanced toward his still outstretched hands, Madenia's much smaller ones still clasped within; he'd been so surprised at hearing news about Ayla that he'd momentarily forgotten to let go. 'Mut's sacred underworld,' he thought despairingly, hastily releasing Madenia's hands and dropping his own. 'She must think I'm the worst kind of brainless oaf right now. Wish I could say that she was wrong.' And then, acknowledging something he'd only noticed peripherally until then, he thought, 'What is it about pretty girls that always turns me into a bumbling fool?'

Certainly there was truth in that almost unconscious appraisal, Danug realized, pausing to take a better look at the young woman. She was tall, he thought, or would have been compared to almost anyone else; taller than most of the women he knew at any rate. And, now that she'd thrown off her hood inside the tent, he could see that she had long chestnut brown hair with a peculiar but rather pleasing wavy texture; she kept it tied back in a pony tail, probably for utility's sake, but because of it's unusual texture, it tended to spread or 'fluff' out rather than hanging straight down like most of the pony tails he'd seen. Her eyes were brown as well, but of a shade so dark that they were almost black. They were mysterious eyes, Danug thought, the kind that you could get lost gazing into as if they held unfathomable depths within, and he recognized an unmistakable intelligence gazing back at him from those depths. The face that framed those eyes was small and T-shaped with a high forehead, small dainty nose, and a small but expressive mouth. Most definitely pleasing to the eye, Danug thought.

Of the rest of her, Danug could tell little; cold weather clothing tended to be less than flattering to the female form. Still, what he did see looked just fine to him; she seemed to be well proportioned if not over-endowed, but that wasn't a problem so far as he was concerned. Being top-heavy tended to be a liability for active women, and those were inevitably the ones that Danug found most attractive.

Then, realizing that he'd been staring, Danug flushed anew, feeling even more the fool, and said, "Uh, sorry. I guess I just got a little bit over-excited when you mentioned Ayla; she made quite an impression on all of us while she was here and we all miss her still. And you're right, now's not the time or place for story-telling; I'm very sure that there are a lot of other people who'd like to hear what you've got to say."

Madenia nodded her agreement, trying to push away a slight feeling of unrest. She couldn't help but notice the casual once-over Danug had given her, and as it always did, such attention always left her feeling uneasy. It wasn't that she was afraid of Danug, per say; he seemed like a nice enough man and, despite what he thought, she didn't think him a fool for his momentary lapses. On the contrary, she found Danug's minor foibles amusing, and more than a little bit endearing; they made someone as large as he was seem less intimidating and more human. Especially the blushes, she thought with an inner giggle; they were cute. But, knowing the male ego fairly well by this, her seventeenth year, she knew better than to tell him that.

No, it wasn't Danug who was the problem, she knew; it was her. Or, more accurately, it was still Charoli and his band of ruffians, even after all of the years that had passed since their brutal attack on her. While she had most certainly gotten on with her life, had even learned to enjoy the Mother's Gift of Pleasures, there was a part of her that would never forget that day or what had been done to her beside that icy river… She'd escaped from that ordeal more or less unscathed, physically, but she knew that she bore scars inside that would mark her for the rest of her life.

Still, she had eventually known Pleasure with a man, and had found her desires to be normal and healthy. But she'd never quite become comfortable with male attention and so had had only a few partners over the years, most of those during festivals to honor the Mother when intoxicants were plentiful and inhibitions were low. It was something about herself that she didn't particularly like, but that she'd come to accept. And just another reason to despise Charoli, wherever he was, she thought.

As that black thought crossed Madenia's mind, two things occurred almost simultaneously. To her left, the woman she'd found covered over with snow out on the open steppes stirred restlessly, pushing the fur off her bare torso and voicing a loud moan. Then, just a moment later, while both she and Danug were moving toward the strange woman, the door flap flew open, and the older man and young woman she'd seen before stepped hurriedly inside, accompanied by another young woman perhaps a couple of years Madenia's senior.

The newcomer, Danug's sister Latie, Madenia assumed based on what Danug had said earlier, carried a haversack with her and wasted no time in moving to the hypothermic woman's side. She knelt down as Madenia watched and began to go about the business of both calming and examining the stranger while off to her right Danug retrieved the cooking basket he'd filled earlier and began to add some hot stones to get it boiling.

Looking up briefly, Latie turned her gaze to the young girl-woman and said, "Rugie, I need your help here, but you may not like this very much."

Frowning slightly, Rugie said, "I'll do whatever you need me to, Latie. What is it?"

"I need you to strip down to your undergarments and crawl into these furs," Latie said evenly. Then, seeing the slightly mortified look on Rugie's face, she added, "This woman needs all the warmth she can get right now. The fire and the furs help, and so will the hot tea I'm about to make, but sharing the heat of your body could make the difference between life and death."

With a sigh, Rugie began to pull off her outer-wear and said, "Since you put it that way, big sister, I guess I don't really have a choice."

Madenia nodded in silent approval at this, thinking that she'd have recommended a similar course of treatment and mentally chiding herself for not having already done what Rugie was about to do herself. She only hoped that her oversight didn't end up costing the woman her life.

As Madenia completed this thought, Latie finished her initial examination and, opening an outside pouch of her haversack began to sort through several small leather packets, setting some aside and leaving others inside. 'Probably dried herbs for that tea,' Madenia thought.

Then, apparently finished sorting and selecting, Latie moved over to the cooking basket full of now-boiling water and began to add the contents of the packets in measured amounts. As she worked, she glanced in Madenia's direction and said, "You're the one who found this woman?"

Madenia nodded and said, "Yes, I find."

Latie nodded as well and said, "Well, I guess it's a good thing that you did, and especially so soon. Mut only knows who she is or how she got out here, though."

Madenia frowned, and said, "You not know her? I think maybe she with you, get lost. There no other people here, yes?"

Latie shook her head and said, "No, as far as I know there's no one else out here right now. But then again, you're here, and I suppose there could be other hunting parties like ours out from other Camps. This would be pretty far for any of them to range, though."

Still frowning, Madenia said, "Not normal; something not normal with woman too. She covered with snow when I find. I think she dead, then she move, take arm in hand. Scare me, I not know what think."

Latie, frowning now as well, finished adding her herbs to the brewing tea and said, "Wait a minute; did you just say that this woman was buried in the snow when you found her?"

Madenia nodded and said, "Yes. When I first see, I not know person there. I think maybe log or something under snow. When I closer, I see… shape, have bad feeling, know person under snow. I dig, think I only find dead person. Much… surprised when she alive."

"But that's impossible," Latie said in a voice filled with more fear than doubt. "That would have to mean that she'd been lying out there for… well, for a lot longer than anyone could have and survived! You're sure…?"

Madenia found herself a little annoyed at Latie's doubt in her story, though she could certainly understand it, and said, "Yes, I sure. I not know how she live in cold so long. Like I say, not normal."

Shaking her head slowly, Latie said, "More 'not normal' than you realize, I think."

"What you mean?" Madenia said, curious now.

"What I mean," Latie said slowly and a bit fearfully, "Is that, other than being ice-cold to the touch, this woman shows no signs of having been exposed for so long. If she'd been lying out there naked long enough for snow to cover her over, she should be frost bitten all over her body. But there's not a trace of frostbite, not even on her fingers or toes."


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, here's chapter 4. A little deeper into the plot here... hope you enjoy!_

Madenia had no idea what to make of this pronouncement; it simply couldn't be! She hadn't had a chance to properly examine the woman herself, but she knew what prolonged, deep cold did to a human body. Could the Mamutoi woman be wrong? No, Madenia didn't think so; even if she weren't a particularly skilled healer, a supposition for which she had no proof, frostbite wasn't easy to miss, even for an unskilled laymen. Was the strange woman some sort of spirit after all? Again, Madenia didn't think so; she seemed entirely solid and was obviously in need of human assistance. She couldn't imagine a spirit ending up in a position like that. Unless, Madenia thought with another sudden chill, she'd been sent by Duna as a test of some sort…

But before Madenia could pursue this line of thought, there was a sudden commotion in the center of the tent. As Rugie moved to climb into the furs and share her warmth with the half-frozen woman, the stranger apparently had other ideas. With a cry of alarm, she blurred into motion, throwing the furs off herself and rolling backward in an acrobatic maneuver that no one there had ever seen before, somehow flipping over to land on her feet and then backing as far away from everyone as the small tent would allow. She stood there then, a wild look in her eyes, her body assuming an odd, bladed posture, her right side and foot forward, her hands up in an unmistakably defensive manner.

Neither Madenia nor any of the others had ever seen anything like the woman's posture before, but it's purpose was clear; it exposed as little of her body to potential attack as possible while keeping her hands poised for either defensive or offensive action. In short, the woman was poised for a fight and, to judge by the unconscious ease evident in her stance, she was likely quite skilled at such things. Not only that, but given the look in her eyes, it was fairly obvious that the woman was confused, perhaps even delirious; Madenia doubted that she had any idea where she was or what was going on.

Apparently Madenia wasn't the only one to have such ideas. Before she could quite make up her mind how to proceed, the older man, Talut, was a step ahead of her. Holding his hands up in as non-threatening a way as he could, the great bear of a man moved slowly toward the strange woman, saying in a low, soothing tone, "Easy, now. No one's going to hurt you, we only want to help."

But there was no sign of comprehension on the woman's face, just the same wild, wary look. Then, as Talut drew near, tentatively extending a hand toward the stranger, she began to call out in a language none of them were familiar with, gesticulating in a manner that made it obvious she wanted him to stay away.

Talut hesitated for a moment, considering, and then, deciding that the woman might be doing herself harm by refusing treatment from the daughter of his hearth, took another step toward her. This proved to be a mistake, as he very quickly found out.

Blurring into motion once more, the strange woman moved almost faster than the eye could follow. As Talut crossed whatever invisible line she'd drawn around herself, her right hand darted out, grasping Talut's right arm at the wrist. Then, before he even had time to realize what was going on, the woman dug her fingers into the pressure points where the wrist joined the hand and, applying pressure and twisting forcefully, spun Talut completely around, forcing his arm up into a painful hammer lock at the same time. Finally, with a hard shove, the woman sent the giant of a man, nearly twice her size, staggering and sprawling at the feet of the others, much to the shock and dismay of all.

With a cry of concern, Latie knelt down beside the man of her hearth, rushing to assure herself that he was unhurt. But as she approached, Talut waved her away, already moving to regain his feet.

"I'm alright, Latie," he said a bit sheepishly. "The only thing hurt is my pride, I think."

Madenia registered this peripherally, still unable to believe how quickly the strange woman had dealt with Talut. Even ignoring the large discrepancy in size between the two, Madenia doubted that she'd ever seen a human being move as fast as the woman had. In fact, now that she thought about it, the stranger's movements reminded her more of one of those small darting lizards that one occasionally saw, or a striking serpent perhaps. Either way, it certainly wasn't what anyone would expect from a person who'd been frozen nearly to death only a few minutes before.

Once again, Madenia felt a thrill of fear run down her spine. What was this woman that she could just leap to her feet, half-frozen, and then toss around a man twice her size as if he were a child? But then, registering the all-too-human fear in the other woman's eyes, once more she was unsure. Would a spirit be so afraid of anything, much less a small group of human beings? She didn't think so. And that being the case, she decided that there was probably only one way she was going to get any answers to this particular mystery.

Moving very slowly and being especially careful to make nothing that could be construed as a threatening gesture, Madenia began to sidle her way toward the stranger. As she came near, the other woman began to yell in her strange language again, using the same words and gestures as before. For her part, Madenia came as close as she dared, not quite as close as Talut had, and then slowly lowered herself to a sitting position, muttering the sort of soft, soothing nothings under her breath that one might use to calm a frightened child.

This brought the other woman up short; apparently Madenia's actions were the last thing she'd expected, if she expected anything at all. She fell silent at first, her gaze unfocused as if she were seeing something inside herself rather than what was before her. Then, eventually, her eyes seemed to focus on Madenia and, dropping her defensive posture, she slowly settled into a sitting position as well.

Once she'd seated herself, the strange woman began to shiver violently, as if her perilously low body temperature had just suddenly caught up with her somehow. Seeing this, Latie jumped up from where she'd been, next to Talut, and, grabbing the fur the woman had thrown off as she moved, made her way to the woman's side cautiously. There was no adverse reaction from the stranger this time, and Latie quickly threw the fur around her shoulders. The woman nodded then and rattled off a phrase in her language that was obviously a thanks of some kind.

Latie grunted a quick response, not intending to be unkind but in a hurry to get back to the central hearth where the medicinal tea she's started brewing still sat. After what the other woman had done, Latie wasn't sure what effect her healing herbs might have, but the stranger did still seem to be in need of warmth, and the hot tea would at least provide that.

As Latie moved away, Madenia found herself momentarily 'alone' with the stranger. True, no one was more than arm's reach from anyone else in the small tent, but somehow it felt to Madenia as if she and the other woman were the only people within a day's walk of where they sat. She wasn't sure why this was, but she supposed it had something to do with the intensity of the stranger's gaze, which seemed to be directed at Madenia alone. Somehow, she had the impression that the strange woman was sizing her up, almost looking through her in some way, and she found the sensation less than comfortable.

Finally, after several moments of this uncomfortable silence, Madenia found that she just had to break it in some way. Considering for a moment, she finally decided that the best way to proceed was the way she'd learned from the traders she'd been traveling with. When you met a new people who spoke a language you didn't understand, there was a fairly standard protocol to follow, and so she did. Raising her hand slowly, she tapped herself in the middle of the chest and said, "Madenia." Then, pointing to the stranger, she raised her hands in a questioning gesture.

The other considered for a moment, frowning as if she were trying to remember something, and then, with a sudden smile said, "Storm. Sergeant Major Joanne Storm."


	5. Chapter 5

_Here's chapter 5. In this one, things take on a sort of 'round robin' aspect that will continue for most of the story; there are just to many characters in too many different places who are destined to have a role in this story to deal with them all at once. Hope you enjoy and thanks to those who've shared their comments and feedback._

While the small band of Mamutoi huddled in their travel tents to escape the sudden blizzard that had blown up out of a clear sky, two strange women suddenly in their midst, other events were playing themselves out elsewhere.

Far across the continent to the west, high atop the small glacier that separated Losaduna territory from the lands of the Lanzadonii and Zelandonii, another stranger had, unnoticed, made his arrival into their world. As the woman had, this stranger made his appearance as naked as the day he'd been born, his clothing, weaponry and other equipment destroyed in the fury of his passage through the otherworldly realms that had brought him there.

Unlike the woman, the man had completed his strange journey physically unscathed. His flesh was simply made of sterner stuff than hers, and so he'd avoided the burning, scalding wounds that had faded completely away in the few hours she'd lain exposed to the cold and covered over with snow. Still, the heat of his passage remained with him, and the ice and snow melted and sizzled as he fell prostrate, momentarily disoriented and confused.

He remained that way for several moments, just lying on his back in a small pool of hot melt-water, staring vacantly into the heavens as his mind and body, along with their associated enhancements, tried to make sense of what had just occurred. Finally, his internals slowly coming back online and the rest of him struggling to catch up, the man sat up with a groan and then slowly climbed to his feet.

He stretched carefully to his prodigious seven and a half foot height, his internals checking for structural damage as he did so. When they found none, he relaxed somewhat and, turning a slow circle, began to survey his surroundings. His ice gray eyes, framed in a face that seemed somehow timeless, neither young nor old, scanned the scene around him, magnifying and enhancing images as necessary without conscious thought on his part. At the same time, the man used various other senses to scan up and down the electromagnetic spectrum and other, more esoteric mediums.

The results were certainly not what the man expected, and a frown of consternation creased his brow. This place, wherever in hell it was, was dead! Or, at any rate, lacking in anything that the man could construe as an artificial or intelligent transmission. There were only the natural background emanations… or were there? Focusing his attention on something incredibly faint, something he could almost believe he'd just imagined, the man turned slowly until he was, according to his internals, facing almost due east relative to the local magnetic north.

He narrowed his eyes in concentration then, a very old habit that had no effect on what he was trying to do, and just 'listened' as intently as he could. He held this pose for several moments, staring intently off to the east, and then his eyes widened suddenly as his internals identified the vanishingly faint signal he'd detected.

'It's her!' he thought excitedly, logging the signal's azimuth into his internal navigation system. Then, invoking a minor daemon almost reflexively, he tried to estimate the range to target based on signal strength, going on the assumption that, like him, she'd have nothing left but internals. He wasn't very happy with the answer he came up with.

'Around two thousand klicks, as the crow flies,' he thought somewhat bitterly. And then, stepping off without hesitation in the direction of the faint signal, not even seeming to notice the bone-chilling cold, he thought, 'I guess I'd better get moving then.'

Somewhere on the southwestern outskirts of Mamutoi territory, in an undersized, barely adequate cave, a small mixed band of ragged young men huddled dejectedly around a fire. They were a representative sample of most of the peoples who inhabited the length and breadth of the Great Mother River, from the Losadunai in the west to the Mamutoi in the east. And though they were a diverse group, they had at least two things in common; first, they were, to a man, the dregs of whatever people had spawned them, the malcontents and troublemakers who'd never done anything to earn their keep, and who all seemed to think that they were above the laws of their own societies. And second, they'd all gravitated together around one charismatic but twisted individual, a man who'd been young and naïve when he began his life as an outlaw, but who could hardly be called either of those after nearly a decade on the run, ecking out a marginal yet strangely satisfying existence preying on whatever targets of opportunity presented themselves.

That particular evening they'd all been inside at any rate; they were between raids at the moment, and no new target had been decided on. In fact, their pattern of activity largely paralleled that of their 'prey'. They tended to do most of their raiding in the summer months, when it was common for all the hunters to be away from a Cave or Camp. Also, by the late summer months, settlements tended to have accumulated enough to make them worth raiding, though food and supplies weren't always the only 'commodities' the young men sought. Still, it had been some time since they'd been on a 'supply run' as they called it, even one perpetrated against the local flathead population, and they were running short on a number of critical supplies. Not the least of which, they all felt keenly, were fermented beverages of any type available; such things were a necessity in their pitiful excuse for a community, they all agreed, not a luxury.

In fact, their illustrious leader, with much grumbling from all, had rounded up what little honey-mead and wine was left and stored it in the spirit-cave, a small alcove at the back of their humble abode so named because of it's odd rock formations and bizarre, disturbing drawings left behind by some anonymous artist in the dim past. And, given how much time the man spent back there, supposedly communing with the spirits that he said supported them and sanctioned their way of life, it was fairly apparent to all just what sort of 'spirits' he really meant. Still, drunken and underhanded as he was, the man was their acknowledged leader, the one who'd managed to keep them all alive, fed, and entertained so far, and none of the younger men particularly fancied replacing him; being the leader was more work than any of them cared to take on. No, it was far easier to simply grumble and complain when things didn't go as they wanted, but never to the point of being cast out from the group. That was another thing, perhaps, that all the men had in common; none of them had anywhere else to go, no one willing to welcome them back home. In a later era, it would be said that they had all, to a man, burned all of their bridges straight to the ground.

At that particular moment, the same moment, as it happened, that a strange man and woman were making their arrival into the world at wildly different locations, the young men were engaged in their usual pastimes; gambling and complaining that there was nothing to drink, too little to eat, and not a woman to be had. As had become usual, their leader was back in the spirit-cave, 'communing' and leaving them to their own devices. They were fairly used to this arrangement by now, and would simply have followed their normal pattern of gambling and grumbling until everyone was too tired to go on if it weren't for a sudden commotion from the alcove at the back of the cave.

Everyone's head snapped around at a sudden strange sound from the spirit-cave, a terrifying popping, crackling, hissing noise that was like nothing any of them had ever heard before. Even more frightening, a flickering, ghostly light shined briefly from the small alcove, it's color impossible to describe; if anything, those assembled later thought, it was as if jet black flames had somehow come to life in the spirit-cave, giving forth a sepulchral glow. But most worrisome of all was the voice of their leader, first raised in a wordless cry of surprise and then a sudden exclamation of dismay and pain.

None of the young men could be described as the courageous type, and all of them at least considered bolting from the cave then and there. But even the dimmest of them knew what their chances would be outside in the raging blizzard that had come out of nowhere a few minutes before. That being the case, they compromised by crowding together in the corner of the cave farthest away from the spirit-alcove until the unearthly display ceased. Even then, it took several minutes of muttering and nerving up before any of them found the courage to grab a spear and creep fearfully toward the back of the cave to see what their leader's fate had been.

As the lead man approached the alcove's small entrance, he could see that it was dark inside, the torch carried in by their leader apparently having been snuffed out by whatever had just occurred there. Still, there was some light, diffused from the fire at the central hearth; enough light, it turned out, to see the shape of a man sprawled out on the floor in the middle of the alcove. His heart pounding and throat dry with fear now, the least cowardly of the motley band of men slowly made his way forward until he stood beside his prone leader and then knelt down for a better look.

Upon closer examination, he could see that the other man still breathed, and, reaching out to grasp his shoulder, he said, "Charoli?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6 up. Hope you enjoy and please drop me a line to let me know your thoughts on this._

The blizzard raged on throughout the night, forcing Lion Camps hunters and their unexpected guests to simply hunker down and wait it out. The time passed rather quickly for the occupants of Talut's tent, most of it taken up in language lessons that stretched far on into the night.

Fairly early on, Latie had given a sort of mystified shrug after examining the stranger one final time and declared that, as near as she could tell, Joanne was in perfect health, despite having been nearly frozen only hours before. She had no explanation for this and until Joanne learned enough of their language, there was no way to ask her for one. That being the case, and her job apparently done for the time being, Latie had excused herself, returning to her own tent and to her mate, Jaren. She figured there'd be plenty of opportunity to find out more about the visitors later, and it was just too crowded to spend more time than was necessary in Talut's tent.

For her part, Madenia had ceded her role in the language lesson before they got too far along. She was far from fluent in Mamutoi herself, and was more than happy to join Joanne as a student once the others began to pick up where she was faltering. They kept going that night until everyone was spent, taking breaks only to offer Joanne one of Rugie's extra outfits and to make a quick meal of traveling cakes and water.

The next morning everyone was up early, woken by the absence of a sound that had become familiar over the last day and night.

"Do you hear that?" Talut said excitedly, throwing off his sleeping fur as he sat up.

Moving a bit slower, fighting her way to wakefulness, Madenia said, "Hear what? I no hear anything."

"Exactly," Talut replied, standing and picking up his outer-wear. "It's quiet out there. The storm is over!"

Things began to happen fairly quickly after that. Once he'd dressed, Talut left the tent to insure that the rest of the small encampment was awake and beginning to make preparations to move out. After this was done, a small pause was taken by all for a quick breakfast pretty much identical to the previous night's dinner, and then the work began in earnest.

For a while, everyone was too busy breaking down and packing up gear for much of anything else, but, since there were plenty of hands on Talut's tent, Madenia decided to take the opportunity to check on Shadow and her own gear. On her way to the horses' windbreak, however, she noticed a man who stopped her in her tracks.

He was of medium height and, as near as she could tell through his heavy outer-wear, had a compact, wiry build. But what had instantly captured her attention was the rich brown color of his skin and eyes. She'd never seen a man who looked like this one, but she had heard of one once, and she stood transfixed, knowing that this had to be the man that Ayla had told her of so many years ago.

For his part, the man looked up from the work he was doing, a smile slowly coming to his face as he noticed the expression on Madenia's. It wasn't the first time he'd attracted that kind of attention from a stranger, and he rather enjoyed it, truth to tell. Especially from young, pretty strangers. 'But,' he thought to himself a bit soberly, 'You're a happily mated man these days. Those kinds of thoughts are best reserved for Mother Festivals.'

Turning to the young woman, the man raised his hands and said, "I am-"

But before he could go on, Madenia broke in a bit breathlessly with, "Ranec! You Ranec, man who carve… Whinney for Ayla!"

Ranec took an involuntary step back, his complexion taking on a sudden ashen tone. "You know my name! And you know Ayla! Who are you? How do you know all of this?"

Madenia flushed a deep crimson, realizing that not only had she committed a gross violation of courtesy, but also that she had startled Ranec with her unexpected knowledge. 'How could I have been so rude!' she thought, chagrined.

Then, determined to make up for her bad manners, Madenia raised her own hands and, struggling to remember everything she'd learned the previous night said, "I am Madenia, of the Cave of the Blessed Hot Waters of the Losadunai, daughter of Verdegia and friend of Ayla of the Mamutoi. In the name of Duna, Mother of all, also named Mut, I greet you."

It took Ranec a moment to digest this, but once he had, he stepped forward and, grasping Madenia's hands said, "I am Ranec, as you seem to know already, mated to Tricie of the Wolf Hearth of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi and son of Nezzie of the Lion Hearth of Lion Camp. In the name of Mut I greet you, Madenia of the Losadunai." Then, dropping Madenia's hands and fixing her with a frank gaze, he said, "You mentioned knowing Ayla; is that how you know so much about me even though we've never met?"

Madenia nodded and said, "Yes. I meet Ayla few years ago. She on Journey, stop at our Cave. I just girl then and have… bad problem; Ayla and Jondalar help."

Madenia paused for a moment there, noticing that an expression all too familiar to her had passed across Ranec's eyes at the mention of the tall, fair Zelandonii man; an expression of old repressed pain. In that instant, Madenia realized that there had been much more between Ayla and this man than mere friendship, and she could hazard a guess as to why Jondalar's name evoked such a reaction from him. Ayla was still the most extraordinary person she'd ever met, and she could imagine how it must feel for a man to loose someone like her.

Still, whatever had been between Ayla and Ranec, Madenia had seen the depth of feeling between her and Jondalar with her own eyes. Indeed, the love and tenderness she'd seen between those two had been what had finally convinced Madenia to go ahead with her First Rites in spite of the brutal attack she'd endured. In a very real way, their love had healed her, and tears still came to her eyes when she thought about what she'd seen that night at the Hot Springs. No, she thought, as much as this man may have cared for Ayla, there was only one man for her, and that man was Jondalar. Still, her heart went out to this man; she could understand his pain even though her own came from a different source.

"Ayla show me things she bring with," Madenia continued. "She show me many pretty clothes that people give her and… prettiest carving I ever see. Carving of horse, Whinney." She paused again there, momentarily frustrated by her limited vocabulary. There was so much more that she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she'd never seen such craftsmanship, before or since, and that his subtle use of color had seemed almost to bring the carved figure to life. But she just didn't have the words to say any of that yet, and so had to settle for 'pretty'.

"She say that Mamutoi man, best carver she ever know, make for her. She say his name Ranec and he have brown skin, color of other horse, Racer. I think then I like to meet man who carve horse for Ayla, but never think it really happen. Later, I think it just silly… imagine? Is that right word?"

Smiling now, a good-natured smile that reached his liquid brown eyes, Ranec said, "I think the word you're looking for is 'fantasy'. Like a dream, but when you're awake and more purposeful."

Madenia nodded gratefully and said, "Yes, fantasy. I not yet thirteen-year then and get… very wide eyes when Ayla tell stories. I want do things like Ayla, meet people Ayla meet. Later I think that silly, but make Journey east anyway. Not think I really meet people Ayla stay with, but glad now. I happy to meet Lion Camp, want learn more Mamutoi so can share stories better."

Ranec's smile widened slightly at the young woman's enthusiasm, and he found himself more than a little touched by her story. He knew the kind of influence Ayla could have on people, especially young girls; he'd seen it first hand in his sister, Latie. And he had to admit, it tickled his vanity to think that his work had made a powerful enough impression to be part of the reason this young woman had traveled Mut only knew how far.

"Well," Ranec said, "I'm sure that Lion Camp is happy to meet you too, Madenia. I know I am. And I'm sure you'll be able to share all the tall tales you want; don't think that we'll let you get away without it! Winters tend to be long and boring without a few stories to liven them up…"

Madenia returned Ranec's warm smile, glad that this man she'd wanted to meet for so long had welcomed her so warmly, and said, "You right about winters. But I have things to tell and lot I want ask."

Chuckling slightly, Ranec said, "I've no doubt of that, and I'm sure that there will be plenty of questions for you as well." Then, glancing toward the tent and gear he'd been packing, he added, "Uh, I hate to say this, but I've still got quite a bit to do yet. But I'm sure we'll have a chance to talk more later."

Madenia nodded her understanding and, turning once more toward the windbreak said, "Yes, talk more later. I still have work too. Need to check on stuff and Shadow."

Ranec quirked an eyebrow at this, wondering about the last word Madenia had said, apparently a word from her own language. "What exactly is a 'shadow'?" he said as she began to move away.

Madenia stopped and said, "Shadow mean… dark place where light blocked by something. It also can mean something very black." Then, seeing Ranec's continued puzzlement, she smiled and added, "It name of my horse. I need go check on her now."

With that, Madenia turned and continued on toward the windbreak, leaving a slightly bemused Ranec behind.

Shaking his head slowly, Ranec smiled and thought, 'Her horse! I wonder if Ayla even realizes what a commotion she stirred up on her Journey? No, I doubt if she does; Ayla never thought of herself that way. She never saw how deeply she affected people by just being herself."


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, here's chapter 7. More transitional stuff, really, but it's all going somewhere, rest assured._

Preparations for the move progressed quickly; Lion Camps hunters were more than eager to get home. And, Madenia saw as she prepared her own horse and gear, they had apparently been successful on this, most likely their last hunt of the year. She saw that Latie and her mate were busily loading a travois lashed to her horse, an almost golden colored stallion whose name she'd learned was Amber. In addition to their tent and gear, the two were heaping on large sections of partially butchered meat, of what type Madenia wasn't sure. Considering for a moment, she approached Latie and said, "Look like you have much good hunt. Lot of meat."

Latie paused for a moment, turning to the other young woman and, smiling, said, "Yes, it was a good hunt. Almost too good, in fact."

Frowning slightly, Madenia said, "Too good? What you mean?"

"Well," Latie said, "We were lucky enough to run down a small herd of bison. Mamut had Searched them for us, and Amber and I scouted, so we were pretty confident… Well, we were luckier than we thought. We took down so many of them that even with Amber's help, we had to leave a lot behind. We only took the best parts, and we cached what we could, but everybody's still pretty loaded down. It's probably going to be a long walk back to Camp."

Madenia nodded in understanding and said, "I thought maybe that so. Can use help? I not have so much loaded on Shadow right now."

Latie's smile brightened, and she said, "If 'Shadow' is your horse, I think that's a great idea! Jaren and Amber and I are okay, but check with Talut and the other hunters. I'm sure they'd be happy to lighten their loads a little."

With a quick nod, Madenia turned to do just that, Shadow in tow, and it didn't take her long to run down Talut; he was putting the finishing touches on his own tent and gear with the help of Danug, Rugie, and the stranger, Joanne.

Bringing Shadow up alongside, Madenia turned to Talut and said, "Latie say you very lucky on hunt. Have much, much meat to carry. Can help?" Then, flushing slightly at her presumption, she added, "If you want us visit. Sorry, I no even ask yet."

Setting down the enormous haversack he'd been loading, Talut stepped over to the young woman, a slightly bemused and very contrite look on his face, and, laying one of his huge paws gently on Madenia's shoulder said, "No, my dear, it's not you who should be apologizing; it's me. We've been rather busy since you came here, but that's no excuse for bad manners." Then, pausing for a moment, he continued in a more formal tone with, "Madenia of the Losadunai, friend of Ayla of the Mamutoi, I, Talut, headman of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi invite you to visit our home and welcome you to stay for as long as you wish, and it's my sincere hope that you'll decide to winter with us. Any more traveling would be extremely hazardous during the winter season and," he paused for just a moment then, a good-natured grin splitting his face before he finished with, "it would deprive us of the tales you have to tell. I'm not sure just how far away the Losadunai are, but I seem to recall Jondalar saying they're not all that far from his people. That's quite a distance to Journey, and I'm sure that you have all sorts of interesting things to tell us about. Not to mention, if word got around that I'd let someone with news of Ayla and Jondalar get away, Lion Camp might be looking for a new headman soon!"

Madenia blushed once more at Talut's words, a warm happy blush this time, and said, "I thank you, Talut. I think Mamutoi good people, just like Ayla say."

Still smiling, and flushing slightly himself, Talut said, "Well, good to know that one is being spoken well of. And now, I believe you offered the assistance of that fine looking horse there in carrying a little excess meat?"

Madenia nodded and said, "Yes, Shadow help. Not so much on travois. I help too; can load more into pack frame."

Talut nodded in return and said, "Well then, I suppose the easiest way to do this is to simply go up the line, taking a chunk from each hunter until you run out of room. Every little bit will help."

Madenia nodded once more, and then her eyes widened in minor incredulity as she glanced over at what the others were doing, specifically Joanne. As they all looked on in disbelief, she casually, though not without some strain, took hold of the huge haversack Talut had packed for himself, a load that must've weighed more than she did herself, and manhandled it up onto her right shoulder. Then, strolling casually to where Talut and Madenia stood, she said in her best newly acquired Mamutoi, "I help too?"

Halfway across the continent, far to the west, a large, naked, and very determined-looking man had finally reached the edge of the glacier he'd spent all night traversing. 'Well, that wasn't so bad,' he thought, looking over the edge at the steep slope he had yet to traverse. 'But that next step is gonna be all kinds of fun.' Then, realizing that this was his last opportunity to take advantage of the altitude provided him by the glacier, he homed in once more on the faint signal he'd been following.

Turning his concentration inward, he sent a return signal, a short, encrypted burst with as much power behind it as he could manage, and then he waited. And then he waited some more. Finally, after perhaps five minutes, he shook his head and thought, 'Just like the last dozen times I tried that. Damn! Either something's damaged or she's running in some kind of autistic mode; I know I'm sending out enough juice to reach her! Well, I guess that means the only way to do this is the hard way. Huh! Don't know why I'd expect anything else after the last few centuries of this crap, though.'

With a resigned sigh, the large man picked his spot and began to make a quick but careful descent. As he climbed, he though to himself, 'Yeah, this is going to be an interesting one. I still can't believe the star sightings I took last night, but the databases and daemons don't lie. As crazy as it sounds, this is Earth! Pleistocene Earth, no less! Still don't know exactly where I am, but to judge by everything I've managed to pull in so far, I'm guessing Europe or Nor-Am. Sure as hell isn't Africa or Australia, and Antarctica is right out.' Then, shaking his head slightly, he thought, 'I don't know what those dirty sons-of-btches were trying to do, but knowing the Myriad, it was nothing good. Probably just as well we got sucked into whatever it is; who knows what the bstards would be able to manage if they'd made it here alone?'

Suddenly, the man's internal tirade was interrupted be a most disturbing sound from somewhere below; a human scream. Actually, his internals informed him, two screams, a man's and a woman's. And the woman's had been a definite scream of pain, whereas the man's sounded more like shock and grief.

The man paused for just the barest of moments, a span that would've been unnoticeable to any onlooker; at the first hint of danger, his reflexes had accelerated to digital speeds, slowing the world around him down to a crawl. To himself, he thought rapidly, 'Well, hell, what to do. I should probably just leave this alone; I don't know jack about this time travel crap. Those two down there are probably supposed to buy the farm right about now, and who knows what'll happen if they don't?' Then, his eyes narrowing, the man thought, 'That's bullsht and you know it, Charmichael. Since when have you ever walked away from a situation?'

With that, the man, Charmichael, turned and took a quick scan of the terrain between himself and the ground below. Calculating the distances, vertical and horizontal, in a bare instant, he thought, 'Well, it won't be pretty, but it's doable.' And then, crouching down for maximum power, the giant of a man gave a superhuman leap, sending himself many meters out from the steep slope, and on a plummeting course toward the ground far below.

Back at a certain small cave far to the east, a group of scraggly young men was just beginning to get over the fright of their collective lives. All of the unearthly and terrifying events of the night before were beginning to fade from their minds as normality returned; only one thing remained.

Charoli had yet to regain consciousness despite a lack of any visible injuries, and so the young men couldn't quite shake their fear. Worse, there was certainly no one among them who could be called a qualified healer, and so they had little idea what to do. After much grumbling and arguing the night before, they'd finally settled for carrying him out of the spirit-cave and depositing him near the central hearth. Some particularly adept soul had had the idea to brew some willow bark tea, the most advanced remedy he knew, but of course Charoli was unable to take any, unconscious as he was.

Eventually, they'd all eventually drifted off to their sleeping furs and an uneasy slumber, but the morning had brought no relief from their troubles. As the day wore on and Charoli showed no improvement, more arguments ensued. Someone thought that they might be able to get Charoli to one of the nearby Camps, claiming to be travelers in distress. This relatively sound idea was quickly shouted down by louder, more cowardly members of the band, however.

Someone else brought up the idea of simply dumping Charoli outside, leaving him to the elements; who knew, after all, what sort of malicious, tainted spirits he'd drawn to himself to cause what had befallen him. And, that being the case, who knew whether those spirits were still around or what else they might be capable of? This was shouted down as well, though; it seemed that the group wasn't quite ready to give up on their leader, despite not knowing what to do for him.

In the end, the problem solved itself. Somewhere around mid-day, Charoli began to moan and then stir. Some of the band, primarily those still wary of malignant spirits, refused to come near him and stayed as far away as the small cave would allow. Others, perhaps no more brave but more desperate to have their leader back lest they have to take on the responsibility themselves, clustered around him. One man, the same man who'd been first into the spirit-cave the night before, proved once more to be the least cowardly of the band and knelt down beside their leader. A move he was to soon regret.

As the man drew close, Charoli's eyes suddenly flew open and his hand shot out to grasp the other man by his throat. The man's eyes grew wide as he was pulled in close to his leader's face and he saw, to his horror, that Charoli's eyes, normally a non-descript shade of brown that were often unflatteringly compared to dung behind his back, had become deepest black, a color darker and colder than night itself; not even the whites were visible through the impenetrable gloom.

But more than that, there was just the flickering hint of something else, as if a fire of some kind burned inside Charoli's eyes, a jet-black fire that gave off a ghostly glow exactly like the glow seen in the spirit-cave the night before.

The hapless young man, beyond fear now, was suddenly sure that he'd been wrong; their leader was beyond saving. And those who feared evil spirits, those who'd wanted to dump Charoli outside in the elements, had most likely been right.


	8. Chapter 8

_Well, here's chapter 8. A little action in this one and a couple of plot developments as well. Hope you rnjoy and let me know what you think please!_

As he fell toward the ground far below, Charmichael used the ample time afforded him by his enhanced reflexes to further assess and prepare for the situation he was rapidly approaching. First, calculating his eventual maximum rate of fall, he adjusted his internal time-sense down, giving him about a subjective minute to land-fall. At his reflexes' maximum efficiency, he knew, it would seem to him as if it took hours to reach the ground, and there was certainly no need for that. A minute would be all the time he'd need.

Once this was accomplished, he simultaneously invoked a rarely used avionics daemon, painting a number of virtual instruments onto his field of view, and let his body relax into a parachutist's freefall crouch, giving him maximum control over his direction of flight.

Finally, as he got enough distance from the steeply sloping walls to see the source of the commotion below, Charmichael brought his enhanced senses to bear, zooming in on the scene below. What he saw evoked some consternation, to say the least.

'Well, that's got to be just about the biggest damn bear I ever saw,' he thought, more than a little bit impressed by the huge beast he spied over a thousand meters below. Vaguely, he noted that his internals had already made a tentative identification of the creature, _Ursus spelaeus_, or so his virtual heads up display told him. 'Huh! Cave bear. Guess that makes this Europe then, for whatever that's worth. And I guess those people down there just happened on some shtty luck; from what I remember, cave bears were supposed to have been pretty placid customers. Well, doesn't matter now, I guess. They're a$$ deep in it, and the big boy looks pi$$ed.'

Indeed, that fairly well summed up the situation below as Charmichael saw it. To one side, there stood a great, furry brown bruin, reared up on his hind legs with what certainly appeared to be murder in its eyes. At its feet lay the crumpled form of a longhaired blonde woman, her face turned to the ground and a pool of blood slowly collecting underneath her. Standing over her, doing his level and angry best to hold the raging beast at bay with a short spear was a man, also longhaired and blonde. As well, what appeared to be a tremendous specimen of a dusky gray timber wolf leapt and danced about the great bear's legs, barking at the top of his lungs and lunging viciously as the opportunity presented itself. Additionally, racing from the peripheries of the scene, neighing in high pitched panic, were a collection of three horses, one dun, one black and one gray, the latter with a small, blonde-haired child clinging to its back for dear life.

As Charmichael took all this in, he shifted the position of his body, altering its aerodynamic profile so that his fall began to take him directly toward the enraged bear's furry head and shoulders. 'No reason to drag this out,' he thought. 'Poor bastard shouldn't even know what hit him.' Naturally, things proved not to be quite so simple as that.

In the final two seconds of his fall, having achieved a velocity of somewhere over three-hundred kph, Charmichael abruptly flipped his body out of its free-fall crouch, bringing his feet directly in line with the menacing bruin below him. He was fairly certain that the impact he was about to impart would be instantly fatal, snapping the bear's neck and spine as his two-hundred-fifty-plus kilos of mass slammed into it. Unfortunately the situation changed abruptly and mystifyingly at the very last second.

'What the fck!' Charmichael thought as an all-too-familiar pearlescent, shimmering black sphere suddenly sprang to life around the enraged giant. 'You gotta be shttin' me!'

That was Charmichael's last thought before impact, though he did have time to desperately ramp his reflexes back up toward max. Still, all that ended up accomplishing was allowing him to perceive what happened next in excruciating detail; even his enhanced musculature was incapable of moving his body quickly enough to keep up with his far faster perceptions at that point.

As Charmichael's feet made contact with the translucent sphere, they glanced immediately to the side, grabbing no purchase and making no impression on the utterly frictionless surface. It was, after all, as Charmichael knew only too well, hardly a real 'object'. Instead, it was really only a boundary between two now separate and weakly interacting regions of the universe: the region inside the unified field and the rest of the universe outside. As such, it was nearly impenetrable and indestructible, and provided a fine degree of protection for anything within, much as Charmichael wished otherwise at the moment. And the hell of it was, he had no earthly idea how a Paleolithic monster of a bear had suddenly acquired one of the Myriad's most vexing abilities.

Regardless, the impact with the sphere threw Charmichael into an instantaneous sidespin and then slammed him into the rocky ground essentially flat on his back. There was a tremendous boom as he struck, like a minor peal of thunder, and pulverized rock and gravel flew in all directions, pelting the now very surprised man and wolf with a multitude of small, painful blows. It was, quite literally, as if a bolt had suddenly struck from the blue.

For Charmichael's part, even he was momentarily stunned by the impact. His internals registered minor structural damage, torn and bruised pseudo-skin and muscle for the most part, nothing major, but in the final analysis he was still human. His mind had to take some small amount of time to register the fact that he hadn't just splattered himself all over the landscape in spite of what instinct and common sense told him to the contrary.

Unfortunately, that miniscule fraction of a second proved to be more than the bear needed. Moving far faster than any natural thing had a right to move, it suddenly turned and lunged at Charmichael's prone form, its protective sphere suddenly vanishing and its great, ripping claws and fangs taking on the same ghostly, pearlescent hue.

Before Charmichael could quite roll away, the great beast's claws caught a glancing rake across his chest, slicing cleanly through the reinforced pseudo-skin and flesh.

'Not good!' Charmichael thought as he rolled away, spinning and flipping to his feet while his internals shut down the stab of white-hot pain in his chest. 'Not good at all. But now I'm pi$$ed.'

With that thought, and having regained his feet, Charmichael dropped into a practiced combat crouch, squaring off with the massive beast. Then, a slow grin coming to his face, he brought both fists up into an on-guard position and deployed what he thought of as his Equalizers, the weapons that had taken all that Confederate science and it's imperfect understanding of Elder technology had to produce.

From the tips of Charmichael's knuckles, eight twelve-centimeter blades suddenly sprang, a strange, shimmering translucence not unlike the bear's visible on their surface. They didn't look like so much, Charmichael knew, but, in lieu of the kind of weaponry he'd normally have had to work with, they'd give him the edge he needed. It wasn't the first time he'd been reduced to the bare essentials.

For its part, the bear had stopped its advance as soon as the blades had made their appearance and stood at a distance eyeing them warily, an unnatural intelligence and a strange, baleful black fire burning in its beady eyes. In that moment, Charmichael still wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he thought he had a pretty fair idea. He didn't know how and had never even heard of such a thing, but he was suddenly sure that whatever was looking back at him was more Myriad than earthly beast. Well, truth to tell, that suited him just fine; he had a hell of a lot more sympathy in him for a bear than for one of those alien bstards.

As that thought crystallized in Charmichael's brain, his body leapt into action. Going from stock-stillness to blurring motion like a striking cobra, he lunged toward the hybrid beast, blades flashing toward any vital areas he could target. Almost as soon as he moved, however, the bear's translucent sphere reappeared, interposing itself between Charmichael's blades and their intended targets.

This proved to be no more than a stopgap measure, though, as Charmichael knew it would. The blades had been designed with a particular purpose in mind; they'd lived up to it in the past and they did this time as well, not only slicing cleanly through the bear-creature's defensive sphere but disrupting and dissipating it in the process, if only temporarily. Still, temporarily had always been good enough in the past, and Charmichael aimed to make sure it was this time as well.

Taking full advantage of the few milliseconds he knew the field would be down, Charmichael waded in, hitting the hybrid monster like a wall of whirling blades. In the back of his mind, Charmichael noted that this thing just wasn't as fast as the creatures he was used to fighting. 'Must not be as tough as the real thing, I guess; kinda' like it's watered down or something. Oh, well, you won't hear me btching about that!'

From there, the fight fell apart for the monstrous creature; it simply didn't have the resources to back what it had begun. Once Charmichael got in and began to do serious damage, it crumpled quickly, almost literally as its body was torn by over a hundred wounds in the space of a second or less. The bear reeled from this attack, bellowing piteously as it staggered back, Charmichael following it and continuing to attack relentlessly.

For his part, Charmichael felt for the poor creature that had so obviously fallen prey to this Myriad's use, but he knew better than to let up. He had no idea what capabilities the alien had imbued in the creature, but he was more than familiar with what a pure example of the Soldier-cast Myriad could accomplish. He had no intention of finding our how this thing compared if he could avoid it.

Finally, the creature staggered back one last step and then dropped down to all fours, once more uttering a pitiful cry. And this time Charmichael did back off, because his preternatural senses had brought something important to his attention; the balefire glow in the beast's eyes was fading. In fact, one microsecond it was there, and the next it was gone. And at the same time, something else changed as well, something Charmichael hadn't noticed before but did now.

One of his more esoteric internal sensors suddenly informed him that there had been a shift in one of those non-electromagnetic spectrums, the ones associated with realms beyond conventional space-time. This puzzled Charmichael for an instant, but then he understood; the Myriad was gone. And in fact, it had probably never properly been there at all. It had only somehow been extending its influence from some other realm, perhaps even the realm that had brought it and Charmichael to Earth's distant past in the first place. Could it be trapped there somehow, he wondered?

He shook his head then, having no way to confirm this theory, and decided that for the time being it didn't really matter. What mattered was that, without the Myriad's continuing support, the great beast he'd just fought gave one last mewling call and collapsed, its life draining onto the ground. What mattered was, only a few feet from that sad tableau, there was a woman lying prone, her own life pumping out of her, perhaps gone already.

'And what really matters,' Charmichael thought bemusedly, 'is what I do now. Wouldn't it be nice if I had a clue in hell of what that should be.'


	9. Chapter 9

_Here's chapter 9. Thanks to those who have reviewed and hope everyone's enjoying this so far!_

Charmichael's victory over the hybrid monster at the foot of the glacier proved to be a far more significant event than he could've know, and sparked off sympathetic events far removed from the source.

Far to the east, past the end of the Great Mother River and slightly north, in a by now familiar cave, a tense tableau was interrupted. The rough, thuggish inhabitants of the shelter had once again backed to its farthest corner, terrified beyond all reason by whatever had happened to their leader, Charoli. They cringed there, cowering and holding forth whatever weapons they'd had the presence of mind to take hold of as an incomprehensible scene played out before them.

Near the cavern's central hearth lay Charoli, half-sitting now as he slowly pulled himself up. And above him, his throat caught in the unaccountably powerful grip of Charoli's right hand, stood another man, nominally the bravest and most foolish in the cave it now seemed.

For his part, the man, Shevo, found himself in a curious place inside his own mind, somehow beyond fear or even conjecture as to what was happening to him. As he struggled to draw breath, it simply occurred to him that something horrible beyond his experience had befallen his leader and their miserable excuse for a Cave, and that, in Mudo's infinite mercy, it seemed that he wasn't fated to be around long enough to see the full horror play out. But in this he was wrong.

As Charoli's hand tightened on Shevo's throat, threatening to snap the man's delicate vertebrae, a sudden change came over him. His eyes widening almost comically, Charoli's face became a sudden masque of pain and rage and with an incoherent bellow he lifted Shevo bodily and hurled him away.

Shevo flew almost to the far wall of the cavern and landed heavily on his backside, luckily more shocked than injured and then just sat where he was. Shevo's already overtaxed mind reeled even further at this turn of events, and he found himself momentarily unable to do more than rub his bruised throat and stare wide-eyed at the creature that had until yesterday been his leader.

And for Charoli's part, the expression on his face and the look in his eye slowly changed, taking on a less frenzied skein. The balefire glow in his eyes faded a bit, though not completely, and he shuddered as if waking from a dream. Then, casting his gaze slowly around the cavern, he took in the pitiful state of his followers and an expression of utter contempt settled onto his features.

"This will not do," he said slowly in a voice that suddenly possessed a deep rumbling resonance no one there had heard before. "I've tolerated far too much from you pitiful excuses for men up to this point, but that changes now." Then, after a thoughtful pause, he concluded with, "In fact, everything is about to change, and not just for us. And it starts right now."

Many days' walk to the south of Charoli's band, in a much larger and far more amenable cave situated near the sea coast of the Great Peninsula, a small group of a very different kind of men found themselves dealing with the repercussions of Charmichael's battle as well.

They sat in a circle in a small room that was several rooms removed from the cave's living area, a spirit cave of their own, and their sacred place for the esoteric ceremonies of men. It wasn't unlike the small sacred room that a few of them were old enough to remember from their former cave, the one that had been partially destroyed and abandoned in the last big earthquake to hit the region, nearly a double handful of years ago now.

But it wasn't quite the same either, the older ones thought, and the man who presided over their ceremonies now, while in every way competent and sincere in his commitment to the spirit world, just wasn't the man who'd guided them so expertly through the misty world of their memories so many years ago. No, Goov was a good mog-ur, a thoughtful, introspective, and of late quite wise man, but he would never be Creb; he would never be the Mog-Ur. He had the intelligence and the devotion, but what he lacked was the raw power. His brain simply wasn't Creb's, and it never would be.

Over the years, he'd come to realize that, and it had disturbed him for a long time. As early as the last year, he'd despaired that the deepest part of his clan's spiritual life, in fact the spiritual life of The Clan as a whole, had died with Creb. But that had all changed the night of his strange acolyte's ascent to manhood, and his first experience with the men's ceremony.

Durc had always been a strange child, born as he was to the woman of the Others. From the very beginning, even after he was reluctantly accepted into their clan, he'd always been different. True, he'd been an endearing child, loved and welcomed by all, or nearly so. There had always been Broud, of course… But as much as Durc had always been Clan, had learned proper Clan ways and behaved as a boy and later a man of the Clan should, there was just as much of him that obviously wasn't Clan and never could be.

Beyond his physical differences, Goov had figured out very early on, there were differences in Durc's mind that would forever set him apart from the Clan. He thought in a way that Clan men didn't, always looking forward as well as back. Like his mother, Durc had a penchant for the unusual, for change, and looked constantly for ways to improve things, to do things better. He had the memories, of that Goov had always been sure; but they weren't enough for Durc. He used them as any man of the Clan would, and had progressed in his manly skills as surely as any other male of the Clan, but that hadn't proved sufficient for him.

From the very beginning, Durc had exhibited an unfathomable and apparently insatiable curiosity for all manner of skills, many of them firmly in the female realm, and never seemed satisfied until he'd mastered whatever it was he'd set out to learn. This caused some consternation among the clan, both men and women alike, but since he was male and did nothing that could be overtly called wrong, it was tolerated.

Goov had noted all of this over the years along with everyone else, but it wasn't until he'd discovered other abilities the boy shared in common with his mother that he'd realized something had to be done, both for Durc's sake and for the clan's. No, the problem hadn't been just in a few odd skills or an unusual talent for innovation; it had to do with numbers.

Specifically, Goov had some idea of Ayla's proclivity for numbers; Creb had confided some of what he knew about that before he'd died. He'd thought it was something the future mog-ur should know. And that had frightened Goov, that a mere woman should know and comprehend more about the sacred counting than the greatest Mog-Ur who'd ever lived. It just didn't seem right that someone who could never, by virtue of her gender, be brought into the spiritual fold should have such knowledge or ability. It struck him as potentially dangerous and destabilizing to their community as a whole, though he'd never had any personal animosity for the woman herself.

And then one day he'd discovered her son scratching marks on a rock, saying that he was going to make a mark for every day that there was snow on the ground that winter so that he'd have some idea of what to expect the next year. Goov had been nearly floored by this; here was knowledge that he himself had trouble grasping, and the boy had never even had the benefit of instruction! It had been then and there that Goov had realized that there was only one path that would ensure a future for the boy while also protecting the clan from the kind of dangers one so gifted could unwittingly unleash if left untrained. Goov had resolved then that Durc would become his acolyte.

Naturally, there had been resistance from Broud, but it had only been token in nature. It was simply a knee-jerk reflex for Broud to protest anything that he perceived as special treatment for the misbegotten whelp of his former nemesis. But Goov's arguments had been persuasive, and in the end Broud had simply found that he didn't really care one way or another. True, the acolyte to the mog-ur was an important position, but it had little to do with manhood in Broud's opinion. Of course a mog-ur and his acolyte still hunted under normal circumstances, but not as much as the other men. They were always too busy with the unfathomable and, in Broud's opinion, distracting business of the spirit world. 'So let the mog-ur cloister the boy in his spirit cave, filling his head with useless knowledge', Broud had though. 'That's just that much less I'll have to deal with him on the hunt.'

Goov had known this was the right path for Durc, and had been glad that Broud had finally consented, if only reluctantly. And for his part, after some initial reservations, Durc had come to realize that what Goov wanted for him was the best path he could take. As an acolyte and someday as mog-ur, he saw that he'd finally be able to make something useful of his strangeness, and perhaps to find a kind of acceptance from his clan that he'd never held any hope of finding before. After all, hadn't Creb, a man who he still remembered if only vaguely and honored in his heart, been born deformed and different? Hadn't he struggled his whole life with his differences until he'd found a purpose for them? And if Creb could find a way to put his differences to work for his people, Durc had realized that he could too.

But Goov hadn't known just how well he'd chosen his acolyte until the day of his first kill, or, more specifically, the night after. In Goov's mind, that had been far more significant than the kill itself or the manhood ceremony that had followed, not that either was in any way unimportant. It had been a clean kill on the open steppes, an onager, and Durc had made the fatal thrust himself as required. Even Broud had had to grit his teeth and acknowledge the new young hunter's prowess. But the men's ceremony later in the night had, in Goov's opinion, marked a turning point not just for Durc, but for himself and perhaps even The Clan as a whole.

It was during this ceremony that Goov confirmed what he'd always known; Durc did have the memories. As they'd merged and melded together under the datura's influence, Goov had quickly seen that. Durc's memories weren't quite the same as the other men's, not quite as well defined and a bit misty somehow, but he'd been able to follow them back to the Beginnings as handily as any other young man had his first time. No, the real difference hadn't become apparent until they'd begun to move forward, passing from the Beginnings through the various forms of the past and on toward the present.

As they'd approached the threshold of the present, slowly branching out into their individual selves, something different had happened with Durc. As the other men had drifted away, somehow he and Goov had remained linked, a thing that Goov had only ever experienced before with one man. And as intrigued as he'd been by this, Goov had been completely unprepared for what had occurred next.

Somehow, instead of stopping at their collective present, Durc had continued to drift forward. Goov had found that he couldn't follow his young acolyte to whatever spiritual realm he was traversing, but through the mental bond they continued to share, he was able to catch tantalizing glimpses. And though he understood practically nothing of what he saw, he realized that the essential element of the land that Durc was traveling was change. Wherever or whenever it was, it was a different place from theirs, and it was in a constant state of change. Goov's brain had reeled, unable to cope with that elemental force, and for a time he'd been afraid he'd be lost, engulfed by it. But in the end, he'd felt himself buoyed up and held close by his companion on this journey, using for the first time a power he'd never realized he had.

And then Goov had known; this was the heart of Durc's difference! Durc could embrace the change, could understand it and even make it work for him! Not only that, but apparently he'd somehow inherited the old Mog-Ur's powers of the mind. 'Perhaps,' he'd thought, 'everyone who said that every totem spirit in the clan was involved in his conception was right. Perhaps some part of the old Mog-Ur does live on in him.' And in this he was more right than he could know; it would be millennia before anyone understood heredity well enough to know that Creb was, through his brother Brun and Brun's son Broud, Durc's great uncle. And it was through this line of descent, coupled with Ayla's own psychically active genetics, that the old Mog-Ur's mental legacy had passed.

From that night forward, something had changed inside Goov. A weight he'd never quite realized was there had lifted from his shoulders, and he'd found something inside himself that he hadn't even known was missing before: hope. In his young acolyte, he saw a new hope for The Clan's spiritual life, a way to recapture some of what had been lost with the old Mog-Ur. And he was deeply humbled that Great Ursus had chosen to lay such an awesome responsibility on his shoulders.

The ceremony that was held in the spirit cave on the day of Charmichael's faraway battle was a routine one. It was merely a gathering of the men to re-invoke and re-affirm the protection of the spirits after the punishing and unexpected blizzard that had seemed to come from nowhere a few days before. Nothing major in Goov's eyes, just a little something to make sure that the spirits weren't angry for some reason and to plead that the whole winter not be so harsh. But it was an opportunity to allow his protégé to conduct a ceremony, something that he felt the young man should practice as much as possible. Goov wasn't getting any younger, after all. And besides, it gave him a chance to observe and think.

In particular, he found himself thinking of a very special ceremony he'd been considering performing for a while now, one that would require some preparation and the cooperation of their medicine woman. The sacred roots hadn't been used since before they'd been forced out of the old cave, and they'd been sorely missed at the last Clan Gathering. But if Goov had anything to say about it, they'd be used at the next one. True, he knew he wouldn't be leading that particular ceremony; it was simply beyond his power. But he fully intended for the one who could lead it to be ready by then and that meant smaller ceremonies to practice. Yes, the single handful of years that remained before the next Clan Gathering would be enough he was sure.

As he thought these languid and unhurried thoughts, Goov watched what his acolyte was doing with a minute eye, performing his own parts of the ceremony as needed. So far Durc had done well, and had just finished calling forth the spirits' attention when Goov began to notice something amiss.

It started as a curious prickling sensation somewhere in the recesses of his brain, a feeling similar to but markedly different from what he experienced in the initial stages of the men's ceremony. It was the feeling of a presence pushing at his mind, but it wasn't the familiar presence he was used to, that of the other men. No, he realized quickly, this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, not just different but utterly alien and menacing. Something completely incomprehensible was suddenly howling inside Goov's head, and by the looks on the other men's faces, he realized that he wasn't alone.


	10. Chapter 10

_Okay, here's chapter 10. Hope its to your liking..._

At the same time, however, Goov also realized that neither he nor the other men were the focus of the phenomenon, which could only be described as an attack. That dubious honor, he saw almost immediately, was Durc's.

The bewildered and very alarmed young acolyte stood at the center of the spirit cave, draped in a smaller and less sacred pelt than the mog-ur's, the coat of a brown bear rather than Ursus' own. The expression on his face would have been enough to tell anyone who looked that, not only did he have no idea what was happening, but that whatever he was experiencing was much more intense than what the other men felt. But there was more than just the look he wore…

As the other men watched, fascinated and horrified, the very air before Durc began to shimmer and warp, and an unearthly, impossibly black radiance began to flicker forth. Then, as this incomprehensible sight impressed itself on the terrified hunters, something even more disturbing began. From the very center of the sepulchral glow, a ghostly, jet-black tendril, like a wraithlike version of some sea creature's tentacle, began to snake forth, reaching directly and unmistakably for the acolyte's face.

By now numb with fright, the men could do nothing but look on as the ghostly appendage reached for Durc. Even Goov found himself helpless; he'd never seen nor heard of such a perversion of spiritual forces, and doubted if there was even a Memory of such a thing. If there was, he felt sure he'd recognize this thing, if only dimly, but there was nothing. He could only gaze on in the same impotent horror as the other men.

But not everyone proved to be completely helpless. As the nameless thing's questing tendril slowly approached him, Durc gave a sudden incoherent cry and instinctively threw a hand up to protect himself. Amazingly, the reaching appendage hesitated at this, stopping short of Durc's upraised hand. This tableau held for a moment, and then the tentacle began to move again, shifting to one side in an attempt to bypass whatever defense Durc had unwittingly conjured.

Reacting once more on instinct, Durc brought his other hand up and turned, interposing both hands between himself and the thing. At the same time, he began to sign furiously in the silent, formal language, invoking every manner of supernatural defense that sprang to his desperate mind and aloud he called out the names of all the guardian spirits that he could remember. He had no real idea what he was doing; there were no precedents for his actions in Clan memory. Instead, he was using the part of himself that wasn't Clan, the part that understood innovation and was able to improvise on the fly, and on this occasion it served him well.

Durc couldn't have known that his chants and gestures, if serving no other purpose, at least functioned as a focus for his own innate and largely untapped psychic abilities, but that didn't change the fact that they did. As well, he couldn't have known that the creature that he faced wasn't truly a spirit, merely a psychically sensitive entity trying its level best to find some conduit out of the otherworldly, non-Einsteinian realm it had become trapped in on its way to Durc's world, but in the end it didn't matter.

Under normal circumstances, the creature would have easily overpowered Durc's comparatively rudimentary faculties. It's own powers were, after all, the product of billions of years worth of purpose-directed evolution. But these were far from normal circumstances and the entity was at a severe disadvantage. Its kind had never traveled the realms completely beyond space-time before, and its abilities had never been intended to bridge the gap between separate and disparate universes. In a word, it was improvising; improvising and struggling at the same time.

That being the case, the tide of the improbable battle eventually began to turn in Durc's favor. The entity's reserves were finite, and in addition to the solid defeat it had just been handed by Charmichael, it was still trying to maintain a tenuous link to this world that it had established far to the north. Faced with its dwindling resources and the unexpectedly stiff resistance of its intended host, the creature eventually began to relent.

To the watching men of the Clan, the shift in the conflict was subtle at first but soon became obvious. As Durc continued to sign and call out the sacred names, his actions taking on almost a kind of frenzy, the groping black appendage became more agitated as well. It whipped back and forth, seeming to seek some way past Durc's upraised hands and acted almost as if there were something more blocking its advance, an unseen barrier of some sort. But eventually its gyrations began to slow as if it were tiring, and soon after that it stopped moving altogether.

It held that pose for a moment, hanging a few hand-spans back from Durc's still-extended palms, looking for all the world as if it were somehow observing the young man in spite of its lack of eyes or other sensory organs. It was anything but a benign observation, all of those assembled sensed; a wave of sheer malevolence and inhuman frustration washed out of the thing, directed firmly at Durc but catching all of them in its wake. And then the entity began to withdraw.

Slowly at first, as if stubborn and unwilling to admit defeat, the ghostly tendril pulled away, shrinking back into the shimmering rift in the air from which it had emerged. Encouraged by this, Durc redoubled his efforts, unwittingly both strengthening his defenses and striking out on the offensive. From there, the situation collapsed rapidly for the intruding entity, and it was soon forced completely out of the small cavern, both it and its ethereal fissure disappearing with a sudden bang of imploding air and a black flash of released negative energies.

There was stark silence at first and no one moved. All were unsure of what had just occurred, or even whether whatever it had been was over. Finally though, the scene was broken by another cry from Durc, a weak, exhausted one this time as he dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He'd never felt so spent in his entire life, not even when he'd just baited some prey beast to the end of his endurance on a hunt, and his heart hammered in his chest. He had no idea what he'd done to expend himself so, and simply concentrated on keeping the black spots that threatened to fill his vision at bay.

By this point, Durc wasn't the only one moving. The other men had broken their stasis by this now, and all were doing something. In many cases, that something was simply making whatever protective signs they could think of and moving as far from Durc as the small spirit cave would allow. Goov, on the other hand, did just the opposite; he moved to his young acolyte's side as fast as his short, bowed legs would take him, a cry of concern escaping his lips. One other man, however, was doing something different entirely.

From where he sat, still dazed and terrified though he'd never admit it, Broud was simply staring at the young acolyte, an unreadable expression on his face and black thoughts whipping through his mind. He watched as Goov knelt beside the young man, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and telling him that it was all right, that whatever had happened was over now. And Broud found himself wondering; was it? Then, his mouth set in an angry line, Broud stood.

"Over, you say mog-ur?" Broud said slowly and precisely. "And how do you know that? Can you even tell me what just happened here?"

With a resigned sigh, Goov looked to Broud and said, "No, Broud, I can't. I've no idea at all what just happened. But obviously whatever that… thing was, it's gone now. Durc drove it away somehow."

"Durc!" Broud said derisively, the name sounding like an expletive from his lips. "You say Durc drove it away. Well, that may be, but where did it come from in the first place? Didn't this all start when Durc called the spirits forth?"

With a sharp intake of breath, unable to believe where he was suddenly sure Broud was headed, Goov said, "Broud, you can't mean to blame Durc for this! He did nothing wrong! His invocation of the spirits was flawless; I couldn't have done it better myself!"

Frowning thoughtfully, Broud said slowly, "Perhaps that's exactly the problem. It wasn't how it was done, it was who did it. Or, more importantly, what sort of man did it." He paused at this point, apparently further gathering his thoughts, and then continued. "I've said it from the beginning, but no one wanted to listen, not even after I became leader. Durc isn't Clan; he never has been! He has the Others in him and whatever perversions they carry. Is it any wonder that the spirits would be offended by our allowing him to conduct a Clan ceremony? I can't believe I let you convince me that this… man should be your acolyte."

The other men were milling about uneasily now; they weren't used to open conflict between any of the men, much less between the leader and the mog-ur. But at some level, what Broud said made a certain kind of sense. Something had certainly gone wrong with the ceremony, and the only new element had been Durc leading it. Perhaps the spirits were offended by a man who carried some part of the Others inside himself leading a ceremony in their honor.

For his part, Goov simply couldn't believe the turn events were taking. He didn't believe for a second that what had happened was Durc's fault. If anything, Durc had been a victim, the focus of the thing's attack, and he had driven it away; of that Goov was certain. So why was Broud attacking him like this, in front of the other men no less? And then it hit him, like a splash of icy water: it was the same reason it had always been in the past. Broud simply hated the young man every bit as much as he'd hated Durc's mother.

Goov took a moment to think this over, to savor the bitter taste of the thought, and then he said slowly and deliberately, "That may be, Broud, but you did consent and Durc is my acolyte. That's the reality of the matter, and you may as well accept it. There are far more important things to be concerned with after what just happened, I think."

But, like his totem, the Wooly Rhinoceros, Broud was not only stubborn but unpredictable when cornered, a position he rapidly felt himself being pushed into. And so he did just what the animal whose mark he carried would have done; he lashed out.

"Who are you to tell me what matters are most important, mog-ur? Am I not the leader of this clan? Do I not make the decisions about who fills what role? Who is a member of this clan and who isn't?"

Goov took an involuntary step back at this, suddenly feeling events spiraling out of his control. What was Broud doing? Where was he going with this tirade? Shaking his head, Goov said, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Broud. Of course you're the leader. I only think that we need to focus on what happened, not who was conducting the ceremony."

"Of course you'd say that," Broud said acidly. "You think that Durc is something special, some spiritual savior for the Clan. Don't think I don't know that." Then, after a pause to let that sink in, he said, "Well, I don't believe that. I never have. Durc is simply what he is; the deformed offspring of a woman who should never have been part of this clan. Everyone always said she was lucky too, special in some way. But in the end, the only luck she brought was bad luck; we lost our old cave to an earthquake because of her impudence. I say Durc is his mother's son. He is bad luck and he has drawn malign spirits to this cave."

Goov was speechless for a moment as the import of Broud's words sunk in; how had things come to this? Finally, he found his voice and said, "You can't mean that, Broud! You saw yourself, Durc drove the malign spirit away! If he hadn't been here, who knows what would've happened!"

"My point exactly," Broud said gravely. "If he hadn't been here, conducting a ceremony he had no right to conduct, the spirits wouldn't have been offended. Instead, as soon as he invoked them, the spirits sent the most malign thing any man of the Clan has ever seen as punishment. Isn't that a clear enough message, mog-ur?"

Carefully controlled anger flaring to life inside him now, Goov said in a flat, dangerous tone, "Are you suddenly an expert on the spirit world, Broud? Do you tell your mog-ur how he should interpret the spirits' actions?"

"Apparently someone must," Broud said flatly, shocking the others with this statement. They simply couldn't believe what was occurring between their leader and the mog-ur. But then, the entire situation was without precedent. "You seem to have lost all perspective in this matter, and so it falls to me to do what's right. What will protect this clan from whatever evil Durc's drawn to us."

A sudden sinking sensation hit Goov in the pit of his stomach, a foreboding, and he said, "What do you mean, Broud? What do you intend to do?"

If Broud had been a man of the Others, he'd have smiled then, though it would've been an ugly smile. He couldn't believe that this opportunity had presented itself to him, and though he was genuinely concerned by the spiritual disturbance they'd just experienced, he simply couldn't pass it up. Looking directly into Goov's eyes against all courtesy, he said, "Durc cannot remain with this clan. He has proven that the spirits do not favor him and has drawn a malign spirit to our very cave. For this he will be cursed with death."

Then, his thoughts rushing forward with a sudden insight, Broud added, "In fact, I doubt that the spirits look favorably upon any deformed people living in this cave. His mate, Ura, will be cursed as well and we'll be rid of both of them and whatever malformed thing she has growing inside her. Then perhaps the spirits will favor us once more."


	11. Chapter 11

_Alright, chapter 11; just a little more plot progression here, really, but it's to your liking anyway. Thanks to those who've reviewed, and hope to hear more of your thoughts on this as we go! _

The journey back to Lion Camp took all of the first day and nearly half of the next, but proved to be relatively uneventful. It hadn't taken the hunters so long to reach the site of their hunt, but it would've taken even longer to get back, heavily laden and traveling through freshly fallen snow, without the assistance of the extra horse and the humans who came with it.

They stopped at another small frozen stream for the night, setting up a hasty camp, and did little but prepare meals and then settle down to sleep. By unspoken accord, curious questions directed toward their visitors were put off for the time being; everyone knew that there would be plenty of time for that once they reached home and those left behind would be more than a little envious if the hunting party heard all the good stories first.

Through it all, though, both Madenia and Joanne kept up their language lessons, speaking of inconsequentialities with anyone who happened to be walking nearby. In this way, they both made good progress, though Madenia was privately amazed and more than a little envious of the other woman's improvement. In fact, she could hardly believe how fast the woman seemed to learn; she never seemed to forget a new word, and her pronunciation and syntax were invariably correct. It was if she simply absorbed the language like a soft chamois cloth absorbed water. Again, Madenia found herself wondering if the other woman were entirely human after all.

They reached Lion Camp's dwelling, a semi-subterranean long-house of a type Madenia had never seen before but found strangely familiar from Ayla's descriptions, just around midday. No one appeared to be outside the structure, owing no doubt to the ice and snow, but smoke could be seen rising from a number of smoke-holes, reaffirming the presence of life and warmth within. Without undue fanfare, Talut lead the way up to the main entrance and threw aside the heavy mammoth-hide drape, calling out, "Nezzie! Everyone! We're back!" Then, pausing for a moment, he added, "And we've brought a few surprises with us!"

Talut's bellowed greeting was quickly answered from within, and a small group of people began to make its way forward, led by a short, plumpish woman who immediately ran up and threw herself into Talut's arms.

"Talut, you reckless old bear! Do you have any idea how worried we were after that blizzard blew up? And then when you didn't come back for so long, we all… well, like I said, we were worried! What do you have to say for yourself, hmmm?"

Smiling broadly now, Talut effortlessly lifted the sturdy older woman up in his arms, and, nuzzling her cheek said, "I'd say that I'm very glad to have made it home without freezing, and that I'm very glad to see the woman of my hearth again, even if she's a bit cross with me just now."

Nezzie tried to hold the hard look on her face for a moment more, but it was no use. Her expression softening, she said, "Well, I'm glad to have you back too. Even if you did scare us all half to death." Then, considering, she said, "Surprises, huh? What sort of surprises? And for Mut's sake put me down, Talut! You make me feel like a little girl when you do this…"

Still smiling, Talut bent close to Nezzie's ear and whispered something that first made her blush crimson, and then smile appreciatively as he set her down. "Well, we'll see about that, I suppose," she said cryptically, the smile still on her lips.

Behind Nezzie, another woman made her way forward, a woman who immediately captured Madenia's attention. She was older, somewhere around Talut's age, Madenia estimated, and carried herself with an air of dignity and authority; obviously she was someone important in this camp. But the very first thing Madenia noticed was the woman's size; she was huge, nearly as tall as Talut or Danug and, for a woman, just as powerfully built! That, and a certain similarity in features and posture, gave her a clue as to who the woman must be. Given what she knew about the sibling/co-leader structure of Mamutoi culture, this woman had to be Talut's sister and headwoman of Lion Camp.

Madenia's suppositions were quickly confirmed as the woman made her way forward and, speaking to Talut said, "It's good to see that you made it home without incident, brother." And then, considering for a moment, she added, "The hunt was a success?"

Talut nodded vigorously, and replied, "More so than we could've hoped for, Tulie. We got so many bison, we didn't know how we were going to get it all back! In fact, Latie and most of the others are headed into the horse annex right now to unload. It's going to take a little longer with two laden horses."

Tulie took an involuntary step back and said, "Two horses!" And then, taking a closer look at Madenia, who hadn't escaped her notice but until then had been a secondary concern, she added, "I don't suppose this young woman here would have anything to do with a second horse, would she now?"

His smile widening once more, Talut said, "You could say that. Didn't I say that Talut had brought some surprises home with him?" Then, after a short pause to let that sink in, Talut motioned Madenia forward, and, addressing Tulie said, "Tulie, this is Madenia of the Cave of the Sacred Hot Waters of the Losadunai, daughter of Verdegia, tamer of horses, and, apparently, friend to our long lost kin, Ayla of the Mamutoi. In the name of Lion Camp and Mut, the Mother of All, I have welcomed her here and asked her to spend the winter with us if she so desires."

Tulie's eyes widened slightly as all the implications of Talut's introduction percolated through her mind, and then, raising her hands to clasp Madenia's, she said, "Madenia of the Cave of the Sacred Hot Waters of the Losadunai, I, Tulie of the Aurochs Hearth of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, also headwoman of this camp, sister to Talut, the headman and mated to Barzec, a hunter of great skill, welcome you here in the name of Mut, the Mother of All."

Then, dropping Madenia's hands and fixing her with a frankly curious gaze, Tulie said, "Talut said that you know a former member of our camp, Ayla. Is this true?"

Madenia nodded a bit nervously, looking up at the rather imposing woman who towered over her by more than a head's height, and in her best Mamutoi said, "Yes, I meet… met Ayla few years ago. She and Jondalar going home, his home, to be mated. They stop at our cave for short time, maybe one moon-cycle, and I get to know." She paused for a moment, a look of old pain coming to her eyes, and then added, "Ayla very special to me. I had problem when she came, something very bad happen to me. So bad I not really…want live anymore. But Ayla and Jondalar help me, make me see life not so bad. If not, I think I walk spirit world now, not make long Journey to visit Mamutoi. I owe Ayla and Jondalar big debt; I owe them my life."

Madenia looked aside as those words escaped her lips, embarrassed. What had she been thinking? She hardly knew these people, this woman in particular, and she'd just bared her soul to her after hardly an introduction. What must Tulie think of her?

For her part, Tulie was taken aback a bit by the brazenness of young woman's statement, but she's seen the look in her eyes and felt intuitively how deeply whatever had happened had affected her. And, given what she knew of Ayla and Jondalar, she had no doubt that they'd been as critical in Madenia's recovery as she said.

Reaching out slowly, Tulie put a gentle hand on Madenia's shoulder and said, "That is always a difficult obligation to live up to, but, knowing both Ayla and Jondalar, I'm sure that the only recompense either of them would want is for you to go forth with your life. It would seem you've done that." Then, feeling that a change of subject was called for, Tulie said, "And what's all this about a horse?"

Relieved to see the conversation turn to a more comfortable subject, Madenia smiled and said, "Yes, I bring horse with. Her name Shadow; that mean 'shadow' in Mamutoi, and I name her that because she almost completely black, only few white spots on belly. I find her-"

But Tulie interrupted with a small shake of her head and said, "No, no, my dear, I think that would be a story to save for later. I'm sure it's an exciting story, but I know everyone would like to hear it all at once, and preferable around a nice warm fire. Once all this meat is packed away and everything is sorted out, I'm sure we'll arrange a feast and maybe even a Ceremony to Honor the Mother. Not tonight, but in the next couple of days." Then, turning slightly to regard her brother, Tulie added, "That sounds about right, now doesn't it, Talut?"

Nodding his agreement, Talut replied, "Pretty much what I was thinking. But let's not wait too long; all of us are dying to hear what our guests have to say!"

Frowning, Tulie said, "Guests? There are more?"

Grinning a bit sheepishly, Talut said, "One more, a woman named Joanne. Though that's about all we know about her just yet. There are some real…mysteries surrounding that woman, but no one has pressed her yet. I'm not sure anyone knew just where to begin, and she didn't know our language when Madenia brought her to us."

Still frowning, now more in puzzlement than irritation, Tulie said, "Mysteries? What sort of mysteries? And you say she came with Madenia?" With that, she turned her gaze back to Madenia, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

Madenia gulped a bit nervously, uncomfortable under Tulie's scrutiny once more, and said, "I find woman, Joanne, naked and buried in snow just before I find Talut and hunters. I caught out in blizzard, traveling at bad time, and see lump on ground in front of me. I…check, brush off snow, find person underneath! I think she dead at first, but she not; scare me when she reach out and grab wrist. I almost run away, not know what to think, but can't leave somebody alone who need help; that not right. So I load up on travois, take with. Soon after I find Lion Camp hunters in stream bed, ask for help. They…you all good people, help me and other woman; I grateful for that."

Tulie nodded thoughtfully, and said, "It's no less than any decent person would do for another, but I'm glad that you appreciate that. And you've no idea who this woman is or how she got where you found her?"

Madenia shook her head and said, "No, and she not speak any Mamutoi or any other language I know then. Now… she seem to soak up Mamutoi like soft leather soak up water. She speak better than I do, and I learn some from woman, Tholie, when I stay with Sharamudoi! I not know what to think; it scare me a little, really."

An odd expression on her face, Tulie turned to Talut and said, "Is that true, Talut? Has this woman really gained that much faculty in our language in what? A day or so?"

Talut nodded slowly and said, "Yes, it's true. I've never seen anything like it. She learns languages even faster than Ayla did. But for all that, she doesn't say much. No one has tried to draw her into any serious conversation yet, I figured that was best done here with the both of us present, but she doesn't volunteer anything either. Just small talk and questions about the language."

Frowning once more, Tulie said, "Odd. Are you sure it was a good idea to bring this woman here, Talut? Are you sure she's entirely…natural?"

Talut shook his head and said, "I don't really know what to make of her, to tell the truth, but I don't believe she's… hostile in any way. She made a miraculous recovery after being nearly frozen to death, and there was an… incident after she woke up. But she was just frightened and disoriented, and has been nothing but helpful and courteous since. Do you know that she carried a haversack so full of meat that I'd have felt the weight all the way back with her? Once she had the words to say it, she said that she thought it was only fair after the help we'd given her. No, I'm far from sure of exactly what Joanne is, but I don't think she represents a threat of any kind. More of a… puzzle if you will."

Tulie nodded slowly and said, "Well, I'll accept your judgment on the matter brother, but I think I'd like to meet this woman. You said that most everyone is unloading in the horse annex; I assume that's where we can find her?"

Talut nodded as well and said, "Should be. Why don't we take a look and see?"

With that, Talut stepped forward, heading for the Mammoth Hearth and the interior entrance to the horse annex, Tulie, Madenia, Nezzie and a few others following close behind. When they reached the archway, Talut pushed the heavy drape aside and everyone trooped in behind him.

Inside, they found most of the hunting party busily unloading a pair of horses, one Latie's familiar golden Amber, the other a handsome jet black mare that they knew had to be Madenia's Shadow.

Looking about for a moment, Talut quickly found the person he sought, standing in a line with the hunters, passing wrapped packets of frozen meat along in antlike fashion. Catching the woman's eye, Talut made a 'come-hither' motion, and, reluctantly dropping out of line she moved quickly in his direction.

As the woman approached, Tulie took a moment to scrutinize her, finding nothing particularly remarkable at first glance. She was an average sized woman, a bit shorter than Madenia, and had hair that was a non-descript shade of brown, cropped curiously short to her skull. Her eyes, though, immediately caught Tulie's attention; they were the oddest shade of ice-gray she had ever seen, almost colorless but not at the same time. Tulie had never seen anything like them, and they made the woman's gaze a bit disconcerting.

Other than that, the woman seemed to have a compact muscularity, as nearly as Tulie could tell through Rugie's hand-me-downs, and moved with an ease and fluidity that she could only compare to a confident hunter's gait or that of some predatory cat. There was no menace in it, though, only a quiet economy of motion and an unconscious grace that Tulie was sure she'd seen before… yes, Ayla had moved like that sometimes, she recalled.

The woman stopped about two paces in front of Talut, assuming an odd but relaxed posture, her feet perhaps shoulder width apart and her hands clasped loosely at the small of her back. Looking up at the man who towered above her, she said, "Yes, Talut?"

Talut frowned slightly at this; the woman had such odd mannerisms! Ever since she'd grasped that Talut was the leader of the people who'd taken her in, Joanne had reacted to him like this every time he addressed her. He understood that it was a gesture of respect, she'd explained that much, and apparently it was so ingrained as to be mostly unconscious on her part. Still, he wasn't used to such deference from others, and it was just a bit embarrassing. Aloud, he said, "Joanne, relax, please. I just wanted to see how you were doing, and my sister, the co-leader of this camp, wanted to meet you."

Joanne relaxed slightly at this, letting her hands drop to her sides a bit uncomfortably, but remained silent, waiting for whatever came next. Tulie observed this exchange curiously, wondering what sort of background or upbringing the woman had to make her behave so. Finally, she figured that the only way she'd ever know was to ask, so without further fanfare she stepped forward and raised her hands in greeting.

The other woman had seen some of the greetings that had been exchanged earlier with Madenia, and, once she was able to understand had had the custom explained to her. Accordingly, she raised her hands as well, grasping the much larger woman's hands firmly.

"Joanne of… whatever people you call your own, I, Tulie of the Aurochs Hearth of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, also headwoman of this camp, sister to Talut, the headman and mated to Barzec, a hunter of great skill, welcome you here in the name of Mut, the Mother of All."

The greeting came out a bit awkwardly, and Tulie realized belatedly that maybe she should have let the other woman begin first. But something in Joanne's expression had told her that the other woman would prefer not to take the lead in this and so she'd gone ahead. At any rate, the ice was broken now, she figured.

After a slight pause, spent glancing to Talut and then Madenia, Joanne looked back to Tulie and said, "Tulie of the Aurochs Hearth of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi and headwoman of this camp, I, Sergeant Major Joanne Storm greet you in the name of your Great Mother of All, called Mut." Then, after a slight pause, she added in a lower, almost embarrassed tone, "But I can not tell you who my people are or where I come from. I do not know. In fact, I cannot even tell you all that my name means. My name is Joanne Storm, and I think 'Sergeant Major' is a title, like headman or carver. But I do not know what it means. My mind… my memories are not complete. I can remember only pieces of my past."


	12. Chapter 12

_Well, here's chapter 12. I started doing little mini-recaps at the beginning of each chapter with this one because of the 'round robin' nature of the chapters at this point. They're just little reminders of where a particular set of characters 'left off'; hope you don't mind this. As always, enjoy and please review._

'_And what really matters,' Charmichael thought bemusedly, 'is what I do now. Wouldn't it be nice if I had a clue in hell of what that should be.' _

Despite the lack of clear-cut options, it wasn't in Charmichael's nature to stand by idly. He'd learned a very long time ago that, under most circumstances, a decision and some kind of action, right or wrong, were usually better than hemming and hawing and trying to come up with a master plan. In fact, such things often made the difference between life and death in combat, and so far as Charmichael was concerned, the current situation was just that. Sure, the Myriad had withdrawn, but who knew what it would try next? Charmichael was sure he hadn't heard the last of the thing.

Shaking his head slowly, Charmichael turned toward the fallen woman, figuring that he'd just take it one thing at a time, starting with whatever seemed most urgent. And in this case, a woman who'd apparently just been mauled by a Myriad-ridden cave bear seemed to be at the top of the list.

As he approached, the blonde-haired man, who had a hand on the woman's shoulder and was calling out what Charmichael knew could only be her name frantically, started and looked up at him sharply. As well, the large gray timber wolf interposed itself between him and the woman, its hackles raised and growling furiously.

Charmichael stopped a pace away, an inscrutable but not unfriendly expression on his face, and said in a tone of quiet authority, "Son, I know you can't understand a word I'm saying, but hopefully you'll pick up on my tone of voice." Then, pointing toward the rightfully protective wolf, he continued. "You need to get control of this critter and get him to stand down. I know he just wants to protect his master, but it's gonna be damn hard for me to do anything to help with him in the way. And that **is** what I want to do: help."

The blonde-haired man studied Charmichael minutely for a moment, his gaze conveying a strange mixture of mistrust, fear, and then hope. Finally, glancing down at the woman with a forlorn expression that told Charmichael the man knew he had little to loose, he pushed himself carefully to his feet and took a step toward the wolf. Then, moving slowly and carefully, he put a hand on the wolf's ruff and, speaking in a gentle tone, coaxed the handsome animal reluctantly out of the way. But as soon as he'd moved himself and the wolf a few paces back he stopped, his gaze and the wolf's fixing on Charmichael in an unmistakable way.

Charmichael sighed; he understood the man's feelings, but right now he needed room to work. 'And besides,' he thought, 'I think this guy has bigger fish to fry right now, whether he realizes it or not.'

Aloud, he said, "Look, I know you're worried about the lady here. But what about those horses that ran off? Especially the one with that little girl hanging on for dear life? If I were you, and that was my little girl, which I assume she is, I think I'd be damn anxious to see where they'd gotten off to and how she was doing. Don't you think?"

The man was nonplused for a moment, having no idea what Charmichael had just said. But then Charmichael pointed in the direction the horses had gone, making motions that he hoped would convey the idea of running horses and followed this up by pointing to the fallen woman and holding his outstretched hand about three feet off the ground to indicate a smaller version of her.

The man considered this for a moment and then, his eyes widening in concern as realization hit him, hastily barked something to the wolf and pointed in the direction Charmichael had indicated. The wolf responded instantaneously to the man's command and bolted off in that direction, the man following rapidly after.

'Well,' Charmichael though, 'at least that went well. Gotta give the guy credit too; as soon as he figured out his little girl might be in trouble, he got his sht together quick. And that's a damn well trained animal he's got there too. Hell, I didn't think anybody was supposed to get around to domesticating **anything, **much less a wolf and three horses, for a few millennia yet. Guess it just goes to show what 'modern science' knows.'

With that thought, Charmichael knelt down beside the fallen woman, focusing all his various senses on her before he did anything else. What he saw gave him some pause.

'What the hell…?' he thought as images, both internal and external and in various spectrums built up quickly in his mind's eye. 'It bit her, I can see that; right on the left shoulder, and deep too. But this isn't half as bad as it could've been. That thing could've ripped her in half or squashed her like a grape. So…?'

Then, as a more complete image built up, incorporating the non-electromagnetic, non-Einsteinian spectrums his internals were capable of detecting, a chill ran down Charmichael's spine and he thought, 'Oh, sht! The son of a btch wasn't trying to kill her! It just wanted to get its damn hooks in! And it sure as hell looks like it did just that!'

Charmichael fervently wished he could deny this conclusion, but the evidence was right in front of him, superimposed over the woman's body on his virtual heads up display. Radiating out from the bite wound on her shoulder, like the trace of some loathsome toxin or disease, was a tracery of fine, shimmering black motes. They followed the tracks of her circulatory and limbic systems, and spread as Charmichael watched. Of course this was only the visual representation his internals projected, but he knew what it meant; the Myriad had, somehow, passed a stock of it's bioFENs on to this woman through the bear's bite. Not a good thing; not a good thing at all.

But this, at least, was something he'd seen before, an old trick and one of the greatest casualty producers at the beginning of the Confederation's war with the Myriad. But it had only ever been effective against civilian populations and unprotected biospheres, fortunately. Elder technology had protected the combat troops, and that, Charmichael knew, gave him a chance to save this woman as well.

Rolling the woman over quickly but carefully to expose her wound, Charmichael popped a single blade from his right hand and made a quick slice through the reinforced pseudo-skin of his left. As the bright red synth-blood welled up, he immediately placed his hand over the bite and, turning his awareness inward, took a degree of manual control over his own FENophages, specifically the ones leaking out of his hand. He knew he couldn't ride them all the way in, but they had to be programmed correctly before they left his body's influence. If not, he knew they'd end up doing the woman far more harm than good.

To this end, Charmichael ramped his time sense up toward max, effectively slowing the world around him down to a crawl, and then set to work with the FENs, not an easy proposition under the best of circumstances. The tiny machines, nanos of more or less human construction enhanced by the near-magical and almost wholly incomprehensible femto-sized devices of the Elders were notoriously finicky. They were entirely rock solid and reliable so long as they were left to themselves, but tended toward unpredictability when monkeyed with in the manner Charmichael had in mind. Unfortunately, he could see no other course of action under the circumstances.

Charmichael ran through all the permutations he could think of inside his head, taking subjective minutes that were mere microseconds in the real world to get things right. Finally, he figured that he'd done just about all he could and the FENs would either do their job or not, and he allowed his awareness to slow down once more. At the same time, he kept his awareness focused on the tiny machines making their way from his palm into the stricken woman's body, knowing that if they didn't perform as he'd done his level best to program them, there was little he could do now.

His internals represented Charmichael's FENs in a similar manner to the Myriad's bioFENs, as shimmering motes making their way through the woman's body; only the color was different. The Myriad influence was painted a foul black, a representation of the otherworldly, negative energy it tapped, while Charmichael's tiny machines were far lighter, almost colorless, revealing the completely different energies that powered them. Charmichael watched both closely.

After a short time, the two diminutive armies met, and a small show of fireworks ensued in Charmichael's artificially enhanced gaze. To him, it seemed as if tiny sparks flew back and forth between the opposing clouds of color, bright white and stygian black flashes that invariably left fewer of the motes on either side with each strike. This went on for some time, and eventually it became obvious that the two were more or less evenly matched.

Charmichael had known this would be the case, of course; Elder technology had just barely allowed humanity and its allies to close the gap in the first dark years of the Myriad War, but it had never provided a decisive advantage. Instead, it had allowed the Confederation to hang on by the skin of its teeth and slowly pull ahead by sheer will, determination, and sacrifice. He knew this battle would be no different.

Finally, after what seemed a remarkably long time to Charmichael even though he knew it wasn't, all the tiny motes, his own and the Myriad's, disappeared from the woman's body. 'Or at least,' he thought somewhat moodily, 'there aren't enough of the little bstards left for my internals to detect. Hopefully that means that whatever the Myriad had in mind isn't going to pan out, but I know what Murphy would have to say about that. I don't think I've got much choice but to keep an eye on this gal, at least for a while.'

What disturbed Charmichael the most about the situation, really, was simply that, while familiar, the Myriad's tactics had still been different from anything he'd seen before. Sure, he'd seen the bioFEN thing more times than he could count; it was like injecting venom or maybe a disease into a victim. But he'd only ever seen it used in a more or less conventional nanomachine fashion before, either to deconstruct in the manner of a 'ripper' as they were called, or to reengineer like an assembler. Either road generally ended up in death for the infected if they had no FEN protection of their own, though the Myriad were known to keep reassembled 'experiments' alive for quite some time if it suited their purposes. That, obviously, was considered the least desirable road to end up on by humans and the few other races of sentients allied with them. Better a relatively clean death than to linger on as a Myriad research project they all agreed.

But what the Myriad had done to this woman had been something else entirely. If it had meant to kill her, it could've done that easily, without ever having to resort to the bioFENs. And what sort of fcked over, rebuilt hominid was likely to do the Myriad any good in this setting? No, the only answer in Charmichael's mind was that it had been bound and determined to do to the woman whatever it had managed to do to the bear; it had wanted a host of some sort, a lifeline or a conduit out of whatever trans-temporal hellhole it had gotten itself stuck in. And the more advanced the host, the further up the evolutionary ladder that host was, the better in the Myriad's mind.

'Bad JuJu,' Charmichael thought somewhat dismally. 'Bad JuJu all the way around. And here we thought all the big surprises had already been sprung. The bstards 'Pearl Harbored' and '9/11ed' us all over the Confederation when they kicked this thing off, and then we spent the next two hundred and fifty years throwing it back in whatever passes for their faces. Sht, we'd pushed the bstards completely our of Confederation space, all the way back to their big hive at Antares. We had the sons of btches dead to rights, just like the Russians had Adolph and Eva holed up in their little bunker in Berlin way back when. But it looks like they changed the rules at the last minute, and here we are. I wish I knew what the hell the bstards were trying to accomplish, but it's a sure bet that Earth, and especially prehistoric Earth, was no accident. That's a hell of a target to hit from five hundred light years away, never mind the temporal component. And the Myriad wouldn't bother with anything that grandiose unless they thought they could pull off a major coup.'

Charmichael's thoughts were still spinning through these dark permutations when two things occurred almost simultaneously. First, the woman in his care began to moan and stir, indicating that consciousness was returning. Charmichael wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not, though. The FENs he'd dropped into her system had done a little collateral repair work on surrounding tissues as they went after the Myriad probes, but it was minimal. The bleeding had stopped and any conventional infectious agents had most likely been destroyed in the battle between much greater forces, but Charmichael doubted if the woman was out of the woods yet. He'd noted in passing that her collar bone had snapped under the bear's bite, and at least a couple of her ribs had cracked as it had tossed her about. Nothing major in the scheme of things, but certain to be painful for the woman. And, with not even a set of skivvies to call his own, Charmichael wasn't sure how much more he could do. No, this lady needed a local healer at this point, someone who had materials stockpiled, and the know-how to use them in this environment.

The second thing, which occurred as Charmichael pondered the woman's new situation, was the return of the man, the wolf, and all three horses along with their small human charge. They moved in toward Charmichael and the prone woman slowly, a bit warily, even, the man and the girl leading the horses rather than riding. The wolf, on the other hand, ranged where he felt like, taking an oblique path that nonetheless led him right to his fallen mistress and the naked giant who towered protectively over her. This time, however, he paid little attention to the strange man, instead bringing his muzzle in close to lick the woman's face hopefully.

For her part, the woman roused partially at this and, sitting up with difficulty, wrapped both arms around the huge wolf's fury neck and began to whisper something low and soothing. 'Yeah, definitely a well-trained animal,' Charmichael thought to himself. 'Well loved too, looks like.'

Finally, the other member's of the woman's family could stand it no longer and, still wary of Charmichael or not, they converged upon the woman, throwing their arms around her, albeit carefully. The little girl threw herself into the older woman's lap, tears streaking her cheeks and a word surprisingly close to 'mama' on her lips. The blonde-haired man was no less enthusiastic in expressing his relief that the woman, the mother of his child, Charmichael assumed, seemed to be better if not entirely all right. He was a bit gentler than the little girl had been, but then he had to be; he towered over the woman by almost a foot, so far as Charmichael cold see, and was obviously quite aware of how easy it would be to hurt her further through clumsiness are over-excitement. 'Well, good for him,' Charmichael thought. 'My opinion of this guy keeps going up every time I see him in action. Sure blows all that 'Alley Oop' caveman sht away where it belongs, anyway.'

Then, frowning slightly, Charmichael came to a decision. Whatever the hell was going on, it seemed to him that this particular Pleistocene family had just been dragged, kicking and screaming, into something that none of them, to include Charmichael himself, head any real understanding of. That being the case, and especially with the Myriad being involved, Charmichael figured that he needed to hang with these people, not to mention their animals, for the time being. After all, he still couldn't be sure that everything was hunky-dory with the woman; he had a bad feeling that the Myriad had really wanted her for some reason and might not give up easily. No, he was sure that there was a lot more to figure out here, and he was equally sure that this family had just become an integral part of whatever it was that needed figuring.

That being the case, Charmichael realized that not being able to communicate wasn't going to cut it for long. With this thought in mind, he turned to the blonde-haired man and began with a protocol that had changed little from these people's time to his.

Catching the smaller man's attention, Charmichael tapped the center of his chest with a massive hand and said slowly, "Charmichael. Colonel Anthony Charmichael.' He thought briefly about adding some of his other titles; Commander in Chief, Enhanced Forces, Joint Confederation Special Operations Group, and a couple of others, but he figured that would be pointless. Not only would there probably be no equivalent translation for any of those titles in any language existent in these people's day and age, but the titles themselves were meaningless outside their proper context. All those organizations wouldn't even exist for thirty-some millennia, if at all; who knew what the Myriad were after here in the past. Charmichael had seen Cameron's 'Terminator' movies when he was a young man, after all.

The blonde-haired man caught on to what Charmichael wanted almost at once; apparently he was no novice when it came to meting new people. Standing up to his full height, possibly for dignity's sake in the face of the giant towering over him, the smaller man raised his hands up in a gesture of greeting, obviously inviting the other man to clasp them. It seemed straightforward enough to Charmichael, so he did so, and then the smaller man said a practiced litany of words that Charmichael mostly didn't understand but nevertheless recorded eidetically in his mind for later interpretation.

What he did catch was names. Names were fairly easy to pick out, with or without the specialized language daemons Charmichael had running, and the man had thrown out several, to include, Tony was fairly sure, the name of his family's tribe or people.

Deciding to take a stab at it, Charmichael dropped the smaller man's hands and pointing in turn to those who'd been named to him said, "Well, let me get this straight. Jondalar, Ayla, and Jonayla." And then turning to the animals, he continued. "Wolf, Whinney, Racer, and Gray." Then, facing the man, Jondalar, once more, he finished by pointing to all of them as a group and saying, "Zelandoni?"


	13. Chapter 13

_Okay, chapter 13 and another peek around the round-robin table here. Hope you like this and let me know what you think please!_

"_This will not do," he said slowly in a voice that suddenly possessed a deep rumbling resonance no one there had heard before. "I've tolerated far too much from you pitiful excuses for men up to this point, but that changes now." Then, after a thoughtful pause, he concluded with, "In fact, everything is about to change, and not just for us. And it starts right now."_

The men of Charoli's 'Cave' had had no idea what to make of his words at the time, nor what to make of the man himself for that matter. But they soon found out.

"Thus far," he began, "we've lived the last few years like rodents. We've taken only the bare minimum we've needed for survival, hoping somehow to escape the notice of the people we've taken from. As if that were likely! And of course, like any pack of scavengers, just as soon as too much attention, too much resistance was leveled in our direction, we scurried away, looking for a new place to hide and a new larder to raid! Well, no more!"

He paused for a moment, letting this sink in and then continued. "From now on, we take what we want, as much as we want, and we take it from whoever we want to take it from! And trust me when I say, no one on these steppes will be able to stop us; not now."

Predictably, Shevo was the first of the men to speak his mind. Shaking his head slowly, he said, "And how is that, Charoli? If you **are** even Charoli now, that is. Or is it the dark spirit speaking now? Is that it?"

Frowning darkly, Charoli briefly considered a small demonstration of what he meant, but finally decided that, for the time being, he needed all the men he had. Instead, he simply leveled his shaded, faintly shimmering gaze at the man and said in a tone too mild by far, "If so, you'd best be wary then, hadn't you Shevo? Or have you suddenly lost your fear of spirits?"

When there was no immediate reply to this, only an uncomfortable look in Shevo's eye as he looked away, Charoli chuckled and said, "And you'd do well not to. But to answer your question, as it happens we're both here, though not equally so." He paused for a moment, a small frown creasing his brow as he gathered his thoughts, and then he continued with, "I think the spirit wanted my body, almost had it in fact. But something happened… somewhere; it had to withdraw. But not completely. A part it, a part of its power, is still with me. A part that can be used to make us what we should have been from the beginning."

Screwing up what passed for his courage once more, Shevo met Charoli's disconcerting gaze and said, "And what exactly is that, Charoli?"

Smiling broadly now, enjoying the dark thoughts running through his mind, both his own and yet not, he said in a smug, satisfied tone, "Why predators, of course, Shevo. Predators just like all the wolves and lions that roam these steppes."

Shevo had no idea what to say to this, no more than the other disbelieving men did, and so simply kept silent as Charoli went on to outline his grandiose plans.

_Then, his thoughts rushing forward with a sudden insight, Broud added, "In fact, I doubt that the spirits look favorably upon any deformed people living in this cave. His mate, Ura, will be cursed as well and we'll be rid of both of them and whatever malformed thing she has growing inside her. Then perhaps the spirits will favor us once more."_

Of course, that wasn't the end of matters. Certainly Broud was the leader and no one contested that, not even Goov, but there was no way he could just blindly acquiesce to Broud's will on this. No, he resolved to himself, that wouldn't happen again; one such mistake was more than enough for a lifetime so far as he was concerned.

Still, he knew, such a thing couldn't be broached openly, not in front of the other men at least. Putting Broud's pride at stake that way would be a sure recipe for disaster, Goov was certain. This would have to be handled subtly if at all, and even then there was no guaranty for the outcome; their leader and the Wooly Rhinoceros that seemed to rule him were far too unpredictable for that.

Aloud, after a significant pause spent gathering his thoughts, Goov said carefully, "That… is one interpretation of things, Broud. But what garners the spirits' favor is difficult to fathom at best. Before we decide to do anything, I must meditate on everything that's occurred. And then we, you and I, need to discuss all the possible spiritual ramifications of any course of action we may take. That's the only proper way to do this."

Broud's face flushed a deep crimson at this and, scowling furiously he growled, "You defy me in this, mog-ur?"

But Goov only shook his head slowly and said, "No, Broud, that's not it. Not everything is as simple as that, and this is one of those things."

But this only seemed to agitate Broud more, Goov saw. Looking at the man, he was alarmed by how near he seemed to be to losing control in some way, and his heart sunk inside him. 'This is unbelievable,' he thought to himself. 'I have to do something, now, or there's no telling what will happen.'

Aloud, to the men in general, Goov said, "Everyone, leave the spirit cave now. Broud is certainly right about one thing; I have no idea what just happened or even whether it's safe to remain here. Everyone should simply go now and give no indication to the women that anything unusual happened. Just go about your usual business and trust in your totem's protection as always until I've had a chance to meditate on this."

Then, after a moment's more thought, Goov turned to Grev, as sympathetic a figure as he could hope for under the circumstances, and said, "Grev, help Durc back to his hearth. He looks as if he may need help getting there." And finally, turning to Durc, he said, "Durc, stay at your hearth until Broud or I call for you. Rest and gather your strength, but under no circumstances discuss anything that's happened here with your mate or anyone else. Do you understand?"

Durc nodded weakly at this, his mind still whirling from the psychic exertion he'd just put forth, not to mention the incomprehensible turn of events that had followed. He couldn't believe all he'd just heard from his leader, and in some part of his mind he dared to hope that he'd just hallucinated it all. Cursed with death? For what? Because he'd nearly been the victim of some predatory spirit that no one had ever heard of or even imagined before? How was that his fault? And how could Broud just summarily include his mate and unborn child in such a curse? It just didn't make any sense. But then, he'd come to realize over the years, not everything necessarily did where Broud was concerned.

To Goov, he said, "Yes, mog-ur. I'll do as you say." With that, Durc left the spirit cave with as much dignity as possible, assisted by his milk-brother Grev and preceded by the other men. Which left Goov and Broud alone together, just as Goov had planned.

By now, Broud's mood was becoming apoplectic; how dare his mog-ur usurp him this way! He'd given no orders! He hadn't told anyone to leave the spirit cave! And certainly not Durc; he'd planned to deal with him and his malformed mate straight away! And yet they were gone, at the mog-ur's word, and not his. That was beyond unacceptable in Broud's mind, and there was no way he was going to stand for it.

"Goov!" he bellowed in rage. "What in Ursus' name do you think you're doing! Just who do you think you are, mog-ur!"

His mouth set in a tight line, Goov said very slowly and deliberately, "You just said it yourself, Broud. I am your mog-ur, the spiritual guide of this clan. All matters involving the spirit world fall to me, especially those that have the potential to cause harm to this entire clan. And a death curse is such a matter."

"You will curse whoever I tell you to, mog-ur! I am the one who makes those decisions, not you! It isn't your place to defy me on this, and if you do-"

But Goov was having none of this and, interrupting his leader against all normal protocol, he said, "You'll do what, Broud? Have me cursed with death? By whom?" Then, pausing to let his words sink in, he said, "Or will you have Durc and I curse each other? No, wait, I have it! You'll have me curse Durc and then curse myself! Yes, that would work! But then who'd be mog-ur? You, Broud? Are you so knowledgeable about the spirit world that you could step in and take my place? Or would you simply pick out one of your hunters and tell him to teach himself the spirit-craft after I was gone? Is that what you plan to do, Broud?"

Broud was struck speechless by Goov's words, both from sheer rage and from a deeper sense of unease that came from the realization that Goov was right. As impossible as the situation seemed, Broud suddenly saw that there was no way he could compel the mog-ur to do what he wanted done if he refused outright. You couldn't have a mog-ur cursed with death, certainly not without a ready replacement standing by! He couldn't even imagine such a thing, a clan without a holy man; they would all die, there was no doubt! But at the same time, there was no way he was going to simply let Goov dictate to him in this way…

Visibly calming and taking control of himself once more, Broud looked to Goov with a mixture of thinly veiled anger and, strangely, new-found respect, and said, "No Goov, that's not what I want. You are a good mog-ur, and I know you want what's best for this clan. But you need to understand that I want the same thing, and I don't see how this clan can ever be safe again with Durc around!" He paused here, knowing that he needed to frame his arguments perfectly from here on; Goov was no fool, and obviously he refused to be swayed by either Broud's anger or his authority. Finally, he continued with, "You admitted yourself that you'd never seen anything like this spirit before, Goov, and I refuse to believe it was simply a coincidence that it came the first time you let Durc conduct an actual ceremony! The two things have to be connected somehow!"

Goov considered this for a moment and then said, "That may well be, Broud, but in what way exactly? Couldn't you see that Durc was more the victim of that thing than any of us? That he bore the brunt of its attack and then somehow drove it away?"

Broud nodded slowly, and said, "That's exactly it, mog-ur. Durc was what the spirit seemed to be after, not us. And that's precisely why I say he shouldn't stay with this clan. Who knows when that thing or something even worse will come for him again now that it knows about him? Or what it'll do to the rest of us in the process? Can you answer those questions, Goov?"

Unfortunately he couldn't, Goov knew, and he'd been afraid of something like this. Broud was stubborn, unpredictable, and even vindictive at times, but he wasn't lacking in intelligence, especially not when it came to justifying the things he wanted to do. Goov was suddenly unsure of where events were heading again, and felt the situation starting to slip from his grasp.

To Broud he said, "I've already said I need to meditate on this, Broud. That's the only way I'll be able to gain any clarity on this, the only way I'll be able to see what needs to be done. Can you understand that?"

Broud nodded once more and then said, "Fair enough, mog-ur, but I'll tell you this; I don't believe this clan will be safe until both Durc and Ura, along with their unborn child, are gone from this cave. I don't know whether Durc meant to draw that spirit to himself or not, but even you just admitted that it **was** drawn to him. And if that's the case, does it really matter what his intentions were? In fact, if Durc is the kind of man you're trying to make him out to be, putting the welfare of the clan before his own, shouldn't he be volunteering to leave for everyone's sake? Think about that mog-ur and then tell me what you conclude."


	14. Chapter 14

_Here's chapter 14, a little more time with Madenia and Joanne..._

"_My name is Joanne Storm, and I think 'Sergeant Major' is a title, like headman or carver. But I do not know what it means. My mind… my memories are not complete. I can remember only pieces of my past."_

Shocked silence met Joanne's pronouncement; no one assembled had any idea how to reply. But finally, having to remind herself to drop Joanne's outstretched hands, Tulie managed to say, "You… can't remember your own past? What do you mean, exactly? And how can that be?"

Shaking her head slowly, Joanne said, "I wish I knew, but I don't." Then, considering for a moment, she said, "Some things I know: my name, at least. And there are other things… but just images, feelings, and… they don't make sense. Or they do, but not…here." Then, with a sigh of frustration, she finished with, "It's just all jumbled and mixed up and nothing seems to match up with anything I've seen since I woke up in Talut's tent. I don't even know where I came from or how I got here."

Again, no one quite knew what to say to this, but no one doubted the woman's sincerity; she seemed far too distraught to have made up what she'd said.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Talut took a step forward, and, putting a hand gently on the woman's shoulder said, "Well, we're all sorry to hear that, Joanne, but hopefully this is a temporary condition. I'm no mamut, but I have heard of people not being able to remember things after a fall or a blow to the head; this must be something like that. If I recall correctly, most of those people I heard about eventually got better, so lets hope the same holds for you." Then, a thought occurring to him, he added, "We should speak to Mamut about this; he would know far more than me about such things."

"That… sounds like a good idea," Joanne agreed a bit hesitantly. "Do you want to do that now?"

Looking to Tulie, Talut found silent agreement in her gaze and with a quick nod said, 'I think that might be a good idea, Joanne." Then, taking a step toward the interior archway, he added, "He should be just inside here at the Mammoth Hearth; he's usually resting or meditating this time of day."

With a small but firm nod, Joanne followed the big headman through the heavy mammoth hide drape and on into the Mammoth Hearth beyond. Behind her, Tulie, Nezzie, and Madenia followed, too curious now for anything else. And besides, they figured, there were enough hands unloading the spoils of the hunt; their absence could be afforded.

Inside the Mammoth Hearth, Madenia confirmed what she'd seen on their first pass through, though it hadn't registered at the time; the place was far from deserted, but she saw no one there that she could imagine to be One Who Served. There were a number of women and small children about and a couple of older men, all engaged in various winter time projects or games of chance, but Madenia was fairly certain that none of them was this 'Mamut' Talut spoke of. Where was he or she then?

As if in answer to this unspoken question, Talut strode straight up to one of the several bed platforms distributed around the walls, an empty one it appeared to Madenia, and reached out one of his massive paws to gently touch a pile of furs there.

"Mamut?" he said in a low tone, and Madenia jerked slightly in surprise when the pile of furs stirred. But, she noticed somewhat peripherally, Joanne didn't; apparently the platform hadn't appeared as empty to her as it had to Madenia.

And on that platform, pushing the furs aside with surprising vigor, was one of the most unusual human beings that Madenia had ever seen. 'So old!' was her first thought, and it was accurate if unflattering.

The man before them was without a doubt the oldest person Madenia had ever seen or even heard of. He was completely bald and his face and body, what she could see of it, were a sagging mass of wrinkles bearing the brown spots of age everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except for the areas covered with elaborate, geometrically shaped tattoos, and there were many of these.

With a certain amount of awe, Madenia realized that this must be the same man Ayla had described to her five years ago, the awesome holy man of Lion Camp who was so old that even his name was lost to time. This, then, was Mamut. And somehow, through some magic that could only be the Mother's own, he was still alive! Madenia's mind reeled at the thought.

For his part, the old man simply let his lively and intelligent eyes, the only part of him that still appeared young somehow, Madenia noted somewhere in the back of her mind, rove over the crowd before him for a moment, paying special attention to the two newcomers. Then, after a brief pause, he said, "Talut, I'm glad to see you back safely. I take it there's something that requires my expertise here? Something to do with these two young ladies, perhaps?"

Talut nodded slowly, a small grin on his lips and said, "Astute as always, Mamut. I don't suppose I ever need worry about much of anything getting past you, do I?"

The old man smiled enigmatically and replied, "Well, no one's perfect, Talut. Not in this world, at least. But I have picked up a thing or two over the years…"

Talut chuckled appreciatively and said, "Old man, if you'd only picked up one thing for each year of your life and then forgotten most of them, you'd still be ahead of the rest of us."

The old man's smile widened almost imperceptibly and he said, "Perhaps. But I think that has little to do with the matter at hand. So tell me, Talut, is there a problem of some sort? Or did you just want to introduce an old man to two beautiful strangers?"

Chuckling once more, Talut said, "A little of both actually. But let's do this the right way." Then, motioning Madenia forward, he said, "Mamut, this is Madenia of the Cave of the Sacred Hot Waters of the Losadunai. I'll let her name her own ties if she likes, but I think we can dispense with formalities at this point."

For her part, Madenia stepped up and taking the old mamut's hands in hers said, "In name of Duna, the Great Mother of All, also known as Mut, I greet you Mamut."

"And in Mut's name I greet you as well, Madenia of the Cave of the Sacred Hot Waters of the Losadunai," he replied and then added, "May you be welcome at this Camp and enjoy your time here." And then, an unspoken but obvious question apparent in his gaze, Mamut looked first to the other stranger and then to Talut.

Interpreting the old man's look easily, the tall headman put a hand on the other woman's shoulder, urging her forward gently and said, "This is Joanne, Mamut. 'Sarjunt-Maejur' Joanne Storm, in her own words. Though she's been unable to tell us just what a 'sarjunt-maejur' is exactly, and that's a part of the problem, I'm afraid."

The old man frowned just slightly at this but, reaching out to take the woman's hands said, "Sarjunt-Maejur Joanne Storm, I, Mamut, spiritual leader of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, ranked first among Those Who Serve the Mother for all Mamutoi, greet you in the name of Mut, Mother of All. May you be welcome here and enjoy your time among us."

Joanne seemed to consider this for a moment and then said, "In the name of your Great Mother of All, Mut, I greet you, Mamut of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi. And I thank you for your welcome here; it is much appreciated, though I already owe you and your people much."

The old mamut just nodded slowly to this and said, "I'm sure you'll find some way to discharge any obligation you might have incurred in coming here, my dear. You strike me as a capable and responsible person."

Joanne flushed slightly at this praise, wondering what she'd done to deserve it; this man had just met her after all! But she did like to think of herself the way he'd just described, and thought it a true enough statement. Perhaps the old man was just a good judge of character, she thought. And hopefully he was right about her.

Aloud, she said, "Thank you and I hope I can live up to that assessment." And then, after a slight pause she added, "But my obligation to your people isn't really the problem Talut brought me here to discuss."

The old man arched an eyebrow expressively and said in a mild tone, "Then what is?"

There was a longer pause this time as Joanne tried to frame what she wanted to say, and then finally she simple blurted out, "It's my memory, Mamut. I… it's all mixed up. I don't know where I came from, how I got where I was found, or even really who I am! I remember my name, obviously, and that title, Sergeant Major, but I don't even know exactly what it means! I think I was a leader of some kind, a person responsible for other people, but that's about all I can say. Everything else is so… hazy; blurred somehow. And none of what I remember makes any sense, at least not here. Everything I remember is so… different from this place! I just… I don't know how to make sense of it all!"

She stopped there, obviously distraught. Mamut just sat for a long time then, gazing at the woman thoughtfully, trying to frame things in his own mind before asking any questions.

Finally, the old man looked to Talut and said, "It might help if I knew the entire situation here, Talut. Just exactly how did this young woman come to be in your charge?"

"That's a bit of a story, Mamut," Talut began and then added, "And only part of it is mine to tell. Madenia is the one who found Joanne, exposed and freezing out on the steppes."

Turning to the young woman in question, Mamut said, "Is that true, my dear?"

Looking to the old holy man, Madenia nodded and said, "Yes, Mamut. I traveling from Sharamudoi settlement, looking for Mamutoi camps. I hear much about Mamutoi from Ayla-"

Madenia got no further than this before the old man started and said, "Ayla! Did you just say that you'd heard about us through Ayla? The same Ayla who was a member of this Camp?"

As this somewhat shocked question came from Mamut's lips, in front of him Talut raised a hand and smacked himself in the forehead sharply. "Well, there was something I forgot to mention," he said sheepishly. Then, responding to Mamut's query in Madenia's stead, he said, "I'm sorry, Mamut, but in my haste, I forgot an important part of Madenia's introduction. In addition to being a member of the Losadunai, Madenia is also a friend of Ayla and Jondalar. And, I suppose I should add to avoid any future surprises, a tamer of horses; or one horse, at least."

Mamut quirked an eyebrow at this and turned his gaze back to Madenia, his questions obvious if unspoken.

In response, Madenia cleared her throat and continued with, "Yes, I met Ayla and Jondalar five year ago, when they on way back to Zelandoni. They stop to visit with Laduni, our hunt-master; Jondalar meet him on first part of Journey, say he owe him debt. I think they just want to stop, visit, and that fine with me."

She paused here, considering just how much she wanted to say at this point and then went on with, "I get to know Ayla and Jondalar pretty well then. They tell me, all of us, about Lion Camp and Mamutoi, about how they good, kind people. They talk about biggest man they ever see and how he wise, gentle leader. They talk about oldest man they ever hear of and how he have great power over spirits. They also talk about brown-skinned man who carve beautiful horse for Ayla, most beautiful carving I ever see. After I hear all that, I… decide I have to Journey this way some day; see all these things for myself."

Mamut nodded thoughtfully, realizing that there was more to the tale than the girl was telling at the moment. But that was fine; he was sure she'd tell it all in time. Aloud, he said, "That satisfies my curiosity about Ayla for now, I suppose. I'm sure that if you have any more recent news, you'll share it with everyone later on."

Madenia nodded as well and said, "Yes, that what Talut and others say. But I will say, all the news I hear, from traders and Journeyers coming east good news. They make it back to Zelandoni and last I hear they doing well."

Everyone assembled smiled at this, happy to hear that their friends had indeed made it home safely from their long Journey, even if they didn't have any of the details yet. But that, they knew, would be a part of the fun later.

After a moment, Madenia continued her tale to Mamut. "I get impatient at Sharamudoi; not want to winter over. They nice people, friends of Ayla and Jondalar too, but I think I have enough time to make it here before hard winter. It only middle of fall when I leave, and I riding horse. But I wrong." She paused for a moment and then said, "I get caught in blizzard; it come out of nowhere. I in trouble, just trying to keep going until I find shelter when I find… Joanne. At first, I only see lump in snow, not know it a person, but then I uncover and see. I think she dead, but she not! Then I load her up on travois and take with. Soon after, I find Talut and hunters camping in stream bed, ask them for help."

At this point, Talut picked up the narrative. "She came scratching at the tent flap in the early evening; I told Danug he was hearing things when he said so! But he was right, so of course we did what we could to help out." He paused for a moment and then continued with, "Rugie put her horse up with Amber, and Danug helped her get Joanne into the tent while I got Latie. They had her bundled up by the fire by the time we all got back in there, and Latie took a quick look at her. And that's where things started getting odd; Joanne was found naked, covered in snow, and Latie couldn't find a mark on her! No frost bite, nothing! And then she woke up."

He paused again there, a sheepish grin coming to his face and then said, "She was disoriented and scared, I guess. She rolled up to her feet and backed as far away from all of us as she could, and then I… did something dumb. A big surprise there, yes?" When there was no immediate response from Mamut, just a curious look, Talut went ahead quickly with, "I was afraid she'd hurt herself or something so I tried to approach her. I just wanted to calm her down, get her to let Latie work… well, you can imagine how that must've looked to her! This big, clumsy bear coming at her, hands outstretched and babbling in some language she didn't understand. As soon as I got within arms' reach, she… moved faster than I've ever seen anyone move before, and before I knew what was happening I was flat on my face on the other side of the tent! I still don't know how she did that, Mamut, but I'm hoping we can coax her into coming to the Summer Meeting with us; I can only imagine how she'd perform in the wrestling contest!"

There were a few amused looks at this from those who'd seen what Talut had described, and a couple of frankly disbelieving ones from those who hadn't, but Joanne only looked vaguely embarrassed. To Talut she said, "I'm sorry about that, Talut. I know I've already apologized, but I don't think I can say it enough. The last thing I'd want to do is hurt anyone here."

Talut just smiled broadly and said, "I've already accepted your apology, Joanne. I understand you meant no harm. But don't expect me to stop telling the story; it's worth telling just to see the looks on people's faces when they hear that someone threw Talut around like a child's doll!"

Talut continued to beam for a moment, and then quickly sobered under Mamut's mild but expectant gaze. After a moment, he went on with, "Well, Madenia managed to calm her down after that and Latie got on with treating her, though there wasn't much to treat. After she warmed up, she was fine, as strange as that sounds. At any rate, the storm broke the next morning, and we loaded up and headed back." He paused for a moment and then said, "Madenia offered up her horse, Shadow, to help us carry back all the meat we'd gotten, and let me tell you Mamut, it was a lot! It was a very successful hunt, to say the least… At any rate, Joanne offered her services as well; she carried a pack all the way back here that I'd have felt! And that's about it, really. Here we are."

Mamut was silent for several moments, apparently digesting all of this. And then, something Talut had said suddenly striking him, he said, "Talut; didn't you tell me that when you found her, Joanne didn't understand what you were saying? That she didn't understand Mamutoi at all?"

Talut nodded slowly and said, "That's right, Mamut. She didn't speak a lick of our language, nor any of the others that Madenia had tried. She learned the Mamutoi she's speaking now over the course of about a day and a half. Now do you understand why I brought her to you straight away?"


	15. Chapter 15

_Alright, here's chapter 14 and a little more with Charmichael and our favorite Zelandonii. Enjoy!_

_Deciding to take a stab at it, Charmichael dropped the smaller man's hands and pointing in turn to those who'd been named to him said, "Well, let me get this straight. Jondalar, Ayla, and Jonayla." And then turning to the animals, he continued. "Wolf, Whinney, Racer, and Gray." Then, facing the man, Jondalar, once more, he finished by pointing to all of them as a group and saying, "Zelandoni?"_

The situation developed rapidly from there. The woman, Ayla, was obviously in pain but, Charmichael saw almost immediately, she was a tough one. Biting back her pain, she exchanged several rapid and, for the moment at least, incomprehensible words with the man, Jondalar. He in turn hustled to the dun colored mare and rapidly began searching through one of the pack baskets hung on her side. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for and hurried back to the woman's side.

Charmichael looked at the object Jondalar was carrying curiously; he'd never seen anything quite like it. It appeared to be the entire pelt of an otter, tanned with the head still attached, and no belly-to-throat cut as was usual in most skinning jobs. At least, that had been his experience as a young man; he'd never been much of a hunter, but he still had a few fond if faded memories of the couple of deer he and his father had taken down together lifetimes ago.

At first, Charmichael wondered just what the thing was for. It appeared to be a container of some sort, but what did it contain? He quickly found out when the woman took it and, unlacing the red-dyed thong that held it closed, began to rummage a little shakily through a number of small packets inside.

His enhanced sense of smell carrying the mixture of odors emanating from the otter skin bag to him more efficiently than any bloodhound and his internals picking them apart with the accuracy of a mass spectrometer, Charmichael thought, 'Well, I'll be damned. A prehistoric aid bag! And it looks like this lady knows how to use it. There's a break, anyway.'

And indeed, he saw that Ayla surely knew what she was doing, even if he didn't. She quickly selected a few of the packets and put the others away, rattling off what could only be instructions to Jondalar as she did so.

For his part, the big, blonde man had rapidly begun to collect materials for a fire, and once that was done settled down in front of it and took a pair of small objects from a pouch at his waist. Then, making sure that he had the angle just right, Jondalar struck one of the objects against the other, producing a bright spark that, luckily, landed precisely where he'd aimed, smack in the middle of a small bundle of some fluffy plant. After that, it was only a matter of moments before he had a small flame going, which he carefully nursed to further life with small kindling and then larger pieces of wood.

Again Charmichael found himself impressed. 'Flint and pyrite,' he thought a bit disbelievingly. 'These folks are way ahead of the power curve, at least as far as every damn archeologist I've got files on ever thought. According to everything I've ever read, nobody was using anything more advanced than a fire drill in these parts for a long, long time yet… If I ever make it home, some of those guys are gonna go ape sht when I upload all of this. If the 'powers that be' don't decide to slap a lid on it, that is. Well, one thing at a time; I'm nowhere near home yet.'

Once the fire was firmly established, Jondalar hurried back over to the horses and began to look through the basket once more. This time he snatched out a medium sized and, Charmichael saw in passing, very well made wooden bowl and grabbed what looked like a water bag of some kind as well. He hustled back over to the fire with these, setting them down carefully, and then moved to the woman's side once more.

Charmichael watched, ready to lend a hand if needed, while the man helped Ayla carefully over to the fire and the materials he'd brought. The little girl, Jonayla, who'd been hovering as close to her mother as she could without actually getting in the way followed closely.

From there, the woman began with, Charmichael was somewhat surprised to see, the little girl's help to boil water and prepare the herbs she'd selected in various ways. 'Well, I guess mom wants to make sure she passes on her trade. Can't start too young at that, I guess.'

For his part, Jondalar had made another trip to the horse and this time returned with a bundle of leather, a rain slicker or some such, Charmichael thought. Then, apparently still following the woman's directions, the man produced a bone-hafted flint knife from his belt and began to cut the leather garment into several pieces.

Charmichael watched this process curiously, and then saw what the man was trying for. Within a few moments, the cloak or whatever it had been was reduced to sections suitable for bandages and probably a sling.

Charmichael's suppositions were quickly confirmed once the woman and the little girl were through brewing whatever it was they were working on. After using some astringent liquid she'd cooked up to carefully clean the deep bite, Ayla took one of the herbal mixtures she'd prepared and applied it directly to one of the leather strips which, with some assistance, she placed directly over her wound and bound tight.

Then, with Jondalar's continued help, she immobilized her left arm with its attendant broken collarbone in a makeshift sling. Finally, she picked up the cooking bowl with her good hand and put it to her lips, draining the latest concoction her daughter had finished for her while she and Jondalar worked.

Overall, Charmichael found himself rather impressed. He'd never been one of those people who'd thought of early man as primitive or brutish; archeology had been advanced beyond that stage by the time he'd gotten his bachelor's degree and his regular Army commission through UCLA way, way back when. But he'd never have guessed that people living this far back in human history would possess knowledge and techniques so… sophisticated. He guessed by what he'd seen that this woman was probably as skilled as any front-line medic he'd ever met; certainly she knew trauma and how to deal with it. And obviously she knew a hell of a lot about plants and their uses.

'Well,' Charmichael thought somewhat philosophically, 'it only makes sense, I suppose. By this point in time, best guess is that modern humans have been on Earth for what? Seventy thousand years? I doubt if they've been sitting on their thumbs all that time; of course they know how to do all kinds of sht! The big question is how the hell did we forget all this in just thirty thousand more years? Well, that's one for the eggheads to figure out. Right now, we've got more immediate concerns, I think.'

With that, Charmichael cleared his throat pointedly, an obvious call for attention which got the desired result as all three of the faces in front of him turned his way. Then, invoking a daemon that had been running quietly in the background until now, soaking up input like a sponge while the three natives spoke to one another in their own tongue, Charmichael said in somewhat stilted but perfectly understandable Zelandoni, "Ayla done for now? Or more to do?"

Three sets of eyes flew wide open at this; all of them would have sworn that this enigmatic, naked giant hadn't spoken a word of their language even a few minutes ago! And now apparently he did… All of them, even young Jonayla, felt a deep chill creep up their spines at this. This man, or whatever he was, had helped them, there was no doubt of that, had in fact probably saved their lives. But there was absolutely nothing natural about him, no more so than there had been about the 'bear' that had attacked them without provocation.

He had literally fallen out of the sky, surviving an impact that no one could possibly survive, and had proceeded to rip a full-grown and obviously unnatural cave bear apart more or less with his bare hands! And now, only a very short time later he'd suddenly become able to make himself understood in their language where clearly he'd been unable before. And as intelligent and experienced as the two adults were, it was all as incomprehensible to them as it was to the little girl; such things simply could not happen without being connected to the spirit world. This 'man' had to be a spirit of some kind, they thought, and hopefully as benevolent a one as he seemed.

After a short pause spent contemplating all this, Ayla replied with, "I have done all I can for myself… Kernel Anthony Karmikel, was it?"

The big man chuckled in a good-natured way at her rendition of his name and said, "That close enough." Then, considering for a moment, he added, "You can call me Tony if you want. That much shorter, easier to say. I not mind." After another short pause he added, "You still need more help. People to take care of you. Are there other people near?"

Ayla considered this for a moment, but it was Jondalar who jumped in with the reply. "We were on our way to visit a people called the Losadunai when this happened. We have friends there, and their Cave is only a few days away on horseback."

Charmichael nodded at this and said, "I think it good idea to… continue? Continue there; as soon as we can."

Jondalar frowned slightly at this and said, "We? Do you mean that you intend to Journey with us then?" And then, flushing as he realized how his remark could be construed, not to mention what they owed this man or whatever he was, Jondalar hastily added, "Not that you would be unwelcome, of course. We're very grateful for your help and I'm afraid that if you hadn't happened along-" his voice momentarily faltered as the full import of his next thought brought a tightness to his throat, and then he continued with, "If you hadn't come, probably all of us would be walking the spirit world now. We owe you our lives, I think."

Charmichael was silent for a moment and then, coming forward slowly, laid a massive hand on the man's shoulder in an unmistakable gesture of friendship. This startled Jondalar to say the least, but he managed not to flinch and then Charmichael said in a gentle tone, "You do not owe me. Taking care of people is my… craft. It is what I do. What I have done for… longer than I can make you understand. And that thing that attacked you… that was not just a bear. It was something else too, something others and I have… hunted? No, that is not the right word… Oh, well, does not matter. That was a very bad thing and I do not know why it came here or what it wanted with your…mate? But I need to go with you now." He paused for a moment here, letting this sink in and then added the part he knew no one would like. "I am not sure the bad thing is done with Ayla and you will need me if it comes back."


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16 up; another little look in on Durc and Ura._

_Broud nodded once more and then said, "Fair enough, mog-ur, but I'll tell you this; I don't believe this clan will be safe until both Durc and Ura, along with their unborn child, are gone from this cave. I don't know whether Durc meant to draw that spirit to himself or not, but even you just admitted that it **was** drawn to him. And if that's the case, does it really matter what his intentions were? In fact, if Durc is the kind of man you're trying to make him out to be, putting the welfare of the clan before his own, shouldn't he be volunteering to leave for everyone's sake? Think about that mog-ur and then tell me what you conclude."_

For his own part, Durc had no idea what to think about the events that had occurred just a few minutes before. In fact, as he was helped back to his hearth by his milk brother of old, Grev, Durc was finding it hard to think at all. His mind was somehow just as tired as his body and what thoughts he had oozed like some viscous liquid through his head.

His mate, Ura, was away from the hearth when he returned, half-supported by Grev, but not far away. From one of the women's crafting areas she saw the man of her hearth practically carried home and without a word she dropped the project she was working on, hurrying to his side.

When she reached their hearth, Ura dropped in the graceful Clan way to sit beside Durc, clearly begging his permission to speak. She would have sat at his feet under normal circumstances, but in this case it wasn't possible; Durc had stretched out prone on his back on his sleeping furs as soon he'd gotten near them.

Grev, for his part, ignored Durc's mate as common courtesy would dictate. Instead, addressing Durc he said, "If you need anything more, don't hesitate to send for me." Then, not really knowing what else to say, he said simply, "I am going now." With that, he turned and strode out with some haste and, Ura couldn't help but notice, just a hint of the kind of tension that could only denote fear.

Ura continued to sit at her mate's side, waiting for his tap of recognition on her shoulder, a tap that was taking far longer than it normally did. Usually Durc was quick to give his mate permission to speak and never kept her waiting unnecessarily as some men did; it was just one of the reasons that Ura cared for the young man as deeply as she did.

It had started at the very beginning, at the last Clan Gathering when she and Durc had been re-introduced to each other. She'd been frankly terrified, though she'd have died before showing it; what young woman, or, in her case, girl wouldn't be in her position? At just over seven years old, still an undetermined amount of time from womanhood, her mate, a strange boy from a strange clan had already been chosen for her and the time had finally come for her to go to him.

True, she'd known this her entire life; her mother had kept true the promise she'd made to Durc's mother all those years ago and raised Ura not only to be a good Clan woman but to be a good mate for the only man she felt her daughter might ever have. But it had been a different matter entirely once the Clan Gathering had come and suddenly it was time to leave everything comforting and familiar she'd ever known for an uncertain future with people she'd never even met.

But from the start, Durc had made it easier for her. Still a boy as she was still a girl, he didn't have or hadn't yet acquired the overbearing demeanor of some Clan men. Instead of trying to impress others by ordering his future mate around or otherwise dominating her, Durc did the last thing Ura would have expected; he did his best to get to know her.

And over the course of that Clan Gathering Ura got to know Durc as well, discovering a great many things bit by bit. One of the first of these, as astonishing as it was to Ura, was that Durc was as apprehensive in his own way as she was herself! Of course he'd no more say this than she would, but it became obvious over time; with the Clan's emphasis on body language in communication very little of this nature could remain hidden for long.

But it only made sense, she had realized. Even if Durc wouldn't be leaving his own clan, he'd be bonding with a person he didn't know, had never known in fact. For almost anyone else in any given clan this would never occur; most matings were selected from inside a clan and the man and woman in question would have known each other for their entire lives. This never guaranteed harmony within a hearth, of course, but at least there was common ground and familiarity. In their case, Ura had realized, there was none of that; all Durc knew of her was that she was, by some quirk of fate or the spirits, deformed in exactly the same way he was. Hardly a firm stone on which to build a solid hearth.

Ura had quickly discovered another thing about Durc, however; something that both warmed her heart and reminded her eerily of the strangenesses she'd discovered and repressed in herself over the years. Durc was in the habit of pursuing things that he wanted and making them work, no matter what. Even as a boy, not quite yet a man, Durc was adept at finding ways to make things work, whether those ways were Clan ways or not. And, it seemed, he regarded his future mating to Ura as one of these things.

It was this, more than anything, that had finally put Ura's misgivings to rest. Durc wanted her; really wanted her, no less! And, she'd found by the end of the Clan Gathering, she wanted him as well. He'd proven to be a sensitive and thoughtful boy, not one to bluster or bully, not even a woman or girl, and he listened, truly listened to the things she had to say! She'd never experienced this with anyone else, not even her own mother; it was, she realized, entirely un-Clan-like. But some buried part of her, a part she'd always denied, positively fed upon it.

In the end, she'd been happy to accompany Durc back to his home; her new home too, she'd realized warmly. By the end of that Clan Gathering, she couldn't have imagined going back where she'd come from. There was no Durc there after all; no one to listen to her strange ideas and simply nod in acceptance. No one to share his own differences and odd interests and the alienation these had caused over the years. And especially, no one to make her feel unconditionally accepted in a way she never had been before, not in her entire life. No, she'd realized after that Clan Gathering that she hadn't wanted to be anywhere ever again but at Durc's side. And, best of all, she'd known that Durc felt exactly the same way.

Which wasn't to say, she thought, still sitting at her mate's side, that there weren't times that the man positively vexed her. Of course she'd never give voice to such a sentiment, never even hint at it, but it was never the less true. And now was one of those times…

At least, that was her first thought; and then, somewhat chagrined, she realized that her mate's breathing had settled into that slow, deep rhythm that indicated that he was asleep! She was nonplussed for a moment, and then a bit embarrassed. Her mate hadn't been ignoring her, he was simply exhausted for some reason! This made her feel better in a way, but it also ignited a flare of misgiving inside her; what could've happened in the spirit cave to make Durc so tired?

At this point, most Clan women would have simply let that train of thought slip aside; after all, whatever went on in the spirit cave was both unknowable and incomprehensible to mere women, so what was the point of wondering? If the men wanted them to know anything they'd tell them. But Ura's mind didn't work quite like any other Clan woman's, and she couldn't just stop wondering.

Still, knowing there was little she could do until Durc woke, she slowly stood and began to move slowly back toward her aborted project in the crafting area. But she knew she'd keep half an eye on her mate while she worked, and fully intended to have not only a meal and a hot drink ready for him when he stirred; she knew she'd have questions as well.


	17. Chapter 17

_Okay, put this up tonight rather than tomorrow because I just remembered that I'd actually intended to put it up this **morning** but ran into problems with the site. Hope you enjoy!_

_Talut nodded slowly and said, "That's right, Mamut. She didn't speak a lick of our language, nor any of the others that Madenia had tried. She learned the Mamutoi she's speaking now over the course of about a day and a half. Now do you understand why I brought her to you straight away?"_

Little else got figured out that day, as it turned out, or that evening either. There was simply too much to be done, and too little information for Mamut to work with. He'd continued to question both Madenia and Joanne for a while, but eventually had realized that neither had much to add that would help him unravel the enigmas he'd been presented with. Instead, he bade Talut and Tulie to get the two of them settled and properly introduced around the Camp, a chore that both were more than happy to perform. And for his part, once everyone had scattered from his hearth, Mamut simply sat back to think. Yes, he thought, there was much here to ponder…

The next day was mostly taken up with preparations for a celebratory feast in the evening, and everyone ate lightly if at all at the morning and mid-day meals. Both of the visitors felt a bit out of place, not knowing quite what to do with everyone bustling around so busily, but eventually both found ways to keep occupied. As it turned out, Madenia had a dish or two in her memory that no one else seemed to be working on, and after a little rummaging through the Camp's stores managed to find enough of the right ingredients to give them a try.

Joanne, on the other hand, found little knowledge of cooking anywhere inside her mind when she looked for it. Oh, she found that she knew the basics, of course; she could have charred a piece of meat over a fire or boiled a container of vegetables to some sort of edible state, but she had her doubts as to just how palatable a meal she could've produced. No, it seemed to her, such things had never been her purview; she sensed that meal preparation was something that she'd always more or less taken for granted, and that she'd had… other responsibilities.

That being the case, she found other ways to make herself useful, wherever and however she could. She ended up basically assisting with whatever odd job came along, helping to fetch and carry things, and even found herself looking after several small children at one point! She found this latter duty particularly peculiar for some reason, though not unpleasant; it was as if she simply hadn't had any experience with children, at least not for a very long time. Still, she found the experience strangely pleasurable in a way, and didn't regret it in the least afterwards.

Toward evening, Mamut called for both of them, and when they reached the Mammoth Hearth, Talut was waiting as well. The two newcomers were a bit apprehensive at first, but as it turned out all the headman and his mamut wanted was to give them a brief rundown of the evening's events and what their part in them would likely be. It turned out that, for the time being at least, all that was planned was a large meal and some storytelling, with, of course, a bit of fermented libation, and Madenia found herself subtly relieved by this. She wasn't sure she'd have been up for a full-blown Honoring of the Mother just now; she generally had to work herself up to such things even with people she knew.

And of course that was part of the reason Mamut had suggested to Talut that they take things a bit slowly with these two; Madenia seemed entirely normal, but Joanne certainly was not, and who knew how she might react to an Honoring Festival? Such customs varied wildly even among the Peoples they knew, after all. No, better to take things one step at a time, Mamut had thought.

Once this was done, only one thing remained before the feast itself, at least in Madenia's mind; it was time to change clothes. But there was a problem there too she realized with a small frown; what about Joanne? This thought on her mind, she turned to the other woman as they moved toward the two bedding platforms that had been lent to them in a corner of the Mammoth Hearth and said point blank, "You not have anything to wear tonight, do you?"

Joanne just shrugged, knowing that the younger woman already knew the answer to this and said, "Just what's on my back. Isn't this… appropriate?"

Madenia's frown deepened slightly and she thought, 'How can she even ask that? Those hand-me-down traveling clothes for a feast with people you don't even know? Great Mother, she wasn't exaggerating when she said she couldn't remember anything! Well, I won't let her flounder…'

Aloud, Madenia said somewhat carefully, "Ah, those clothes all right for… everyday things. For work especially. But they not… nice. Not fine or fancy. Tonight special, and we should dress as nice as we can, make good… impression on Mamutoi."

Joanne nodded, a slightly frustrated look on her face, and said, "I understand what you mean; the clothes make the person. But what am I supposed to do? **Make** myself an outfit for tonight? I don't have any idea how to work leather like that, and even if I did and I had the time, I don't have the materials. In fact, I don't have a thing I can call my own right now, not even the clothes on my back."

Madenia put a sympathetic hand on Joanne's shoulder and said, "It all right, Joanne. Not your fault." So far as she knew, Madenia realized belatedly; she still had no idea how Joanne had ended up where she had, naked and freezing. But she pushed this thought aside for the moment and continued with, "We take a look at outfits I bring, see if anything good for you. You little bit shorter than me, but not much. I sure we find something."

Joanne relaxed slightly at this and, more than a little gratitude in her tone said, "I appreciate that Madenia. I really do, especially after everything else you've done for me. In fact, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel more than a little bit guilty; so far I've been soaking up everyone else's help and giving back very little of my own."

Madenia just smiled at this and said, "Trust me, Joanne. We all need help sometimes; I soak up much help myself in past. This just my way of giving a little back."

The two women didn't rush as they examined the garments Madenia had brought with her, but neither of them wasted any time either. Both of them, it seemed, had learned to work efficiently over the course of their lives, and it showed even in something so small.

They emptied the pack containing Madenia's spare clothing first, laying everything out on her bedding platform in an organized manner. Then, looking over each item carefully, they began to make choices.

Madenia considered several outfits for herself, including one that she wasn't even sure why she'd brought… no, she knew why she'd brought it; it was a gift from Ayla, and she'd no more have left it behind than she'd have left Shadow. But this wasn't the proper occasion to wear the beautiful Sharamudoi matrimonial outfit; it was far too special for a mere feast, even a feast among Ayla's adoptive people. Ayla had said that she should wear it for her matrimonial some day, and she'd already worn it for her First Rites… well, for the first part of them, at least she thought with a warm flush.

Noticing the garment the younger woman was lingering over, Joanne said, "That one is beautiful, Madenia. Are you going to wear it?"

The other woman's flush deepened slightly and she said, "No, Joanne, this too special for tonight. Gift from friend I not see in… long time. I supposed to be saving this for matrimonial; not even really know why I bring with."

Joanne frowned slightly and said, "Matrimonial? That's a mating, right? A man and a woman getting together permanently?"

Madenia nodded and replied, "Usually. Sometimes pairings different, or more than two join. Your traditions different?"

Joanne considered this for a moment, trying to remember just what her traditions were, exactly, and then finally said, "I… don't remember exactly. But I don't think they're very different. What you said sounds familiar. It's just… well, I don't think that the people wherever I came from deal with that sort of thing very much. I don't think I was mated, and I don't think much of anyone else was either…"

Madenia's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she said, "No one mated? How you take care of each other then? How you raise children?"

Looking vaguely uncomfortable, Joanne said slowly, "Well, that's another thing… I don't think there were any children. At least not in the normal sense of the word… either way, I'm dead certain that before this afternoon I hadn't interacted with a child for… well, for years at least. We were just a group of adults, I'm sure of that. And… and we all had some purpose we were working toward; something that was bigger than any of us individually!" A sudden light came to Joanne's eyes, as if something momentous had just struck her, and then she added in a whisper, "That's why there were no children! The place we were at, and whatever we were doing there was too dangerous for children! Too dangerous for anyone, really, but there was a job we had to do, and it had to be done, danger or no."

But then the light of sudden insight faded, and, dejected, Joanne said, "That's it. I can't remember anything else; not yet, anyway."

Madenia felt a by-now-familiar chill make it's way down her spine and thought, 'What did she just tell me? A place too dangerous for anyone where a group of adults has been working for years to do something so important that it has to be done no matter what? Is there even such a place in this world? Or is she talking about some battle in the spirit world?'

Aloud, she said somewhat tentatively, "I… not sure what to say to that. But you shouldn't worry; if you starting to remember things, I sure you remember all in time. Everything be all right eventually."

But this innocent platitude only seemed to add to Joanne's frustration, and in a tone laced with more than a little apprehension she said, "That's just it, Madenia. What if everything isn't all right? What if I do remember everything and discover that I don't want to? I haven't said so up until now, but from what little I do remember, Madenia, I'm afraid that wherever I came from isn't a very nice place at all."


	18. Chapter 18

_Okay, chapter 18 and a little more interraction between Charmichael and our wayward Zelandonii. Mostly expository but still interresting, I hope! Let me know what you think please..._

_Charmichael was silent for a moment and then, coming forward slowly, laid a massive hand on the man's shoulder in an unmistakable gesture of friendship. This startled Jondalar to say the least, but he managed not to flinch and then Charmichael said in a gentle tone, "You do not owe me. Taking care of people is my… craft. It is what I do. What I have done for… longer than I can make you understand. And that thing that attacked you… that was not just a bear. It was something else too, something others and I have… hunted? No, that is not the right word… Oh, well, does not matter. That was a very bad thing and I do not know why it came here or what it wanted with your…mate? But I need to go with you now." He paused for a moment here, letting this sink in and then added the part he knew no one would like. "I am not sure the bad thing is done with Ayla and you will need me if it comes back."_

No one present had any idea what to say to this, and a somewhat gloomy silence fell upon the group, huddled now around the small fire Jondalar had made. Finally, mostly just to be doing something, Charmichael turned his gaze to the fallen 'bear' carcass and began to make his way in that direction.

When he reached the body, he reached down and rolled it over slowly, wanting a better look at the damage he'd done to the torso. He knew that he'd pretty well shredded a good area there, but it occurred to him that if the damage were localized enough, he just might have a use for the rest of the pelt…

After a few moments' examination, he gave a satisfied grunt; 'It'll do,' he thought solemnly, and then, popping a single blade from his right knuckle, began to slice at the anus, working his way up. The others, watching a bit surreptitiously from the relative comfort of the fire, understood the big man's intentions instinctively; why waste a potential resource? Especially something as valuable as a cave bear pelt.

For his part, Charmichael quickly finished his skinning job; it had been literally centuries since he'd done anything like this, but the memories were still there, and, where needs be, were augmented by large and comprehensive files on low-tech survival. His work was perhaps a little rougher than Jondalar or Ayla would have managed, but it was serviceable at least.

Once he was done, he rolled the furry hide into a bundle, figuring he'd have time for further processing later, and then took a look at what was left. He hated to let so much meat go to waste; that had always been one of his father's cardinal rules, after all, eat what you kill and don't kill anything you don't intend to eat. But, in this case, he wasn't sure if the carcass in question could safely be eaten by anyone but him, and he hardly thought that fair. No, he figured, better to just get rid of this one…

To that end, he first moved back toward the others, dropping the hide in an unoccupied spot with the admonition, "Do not touch, please; I am not sure it is safe yet." And then, casting about the landscape, he located a small, dead pine which he immediately headed for.

Once he reached the tree, perhaps a foot in diameter and twenty or thirty feet high, he reached out and put a hand on the dead trunk. Then he began to push, gradually doubling and redoubling the force. The dead tree, clinging to the thin, rocky soil only by a relatively shallow root system, resisted at first but soon began to bend, a little at first and then more and more. Finally, with several sharp cracks and a rending, ripping noise, it toppled, roots coming free of the ground at its base.

After the tree hit the ground, Charmichael began to walk toward it's top, stripping off and collecting the dead branches as he went. When he reached the small tree's crown, he dropped the pile of brush he'd collected and then, picking the diminutive pine up began to work his way back toward the base, snapping the trunk into approximately four-foot sections over his knee as he went.

The three Zelandoni watched this operation with an almost equal mixture of amazement, curiosity, and trepidation. They were unsure of just what the strange man intended to do with the wood he was collecting in so unorthodox a manner, but that hardly mattered; the impossible method he'd used to accomplish his task was enough to more than occupy their attention.

Once Charmichael had the tree broken up into manageable sections, be went back and began to arrange the brush he'd collected into a pile, intermixing and piling the larger logs on to form the base of what he hoped would be a decent bonfire. That done, he made his way back to what was left of the cave bear, hoisting it's nearly two-thousand pounds improbably to his shoulder as the stunned locals looked on. Then, trudging carefully but without visible effort, he made his way back the brush pile he'd arranged and dumped the carcass unceremoniously on top.

After taking a moment to arrange the bear's remains, Charmichael made his way back to the fire, reaching for a burning brand when he arrived. At this point, however, Jondalar felt compelled to speak up.

"You don't intend to destroy all that meat, do you?"

Charmichael was silent for a moment, considering his reply, and then said, "I do not want to, but it is like the hide; I am not sure it is safe. I probably could eat it; I have… protection. But I'm not sure about you; better safe than sorry, I think."

Jondalar pondered this for a moment, remembering the shockingly unnatural things he'd seen from the dead cave bear, and then, nodding slowly said, "You're probably right. Now that I think about it, I don't think I'd feel comfortable eating any part of that animal. Or feeding it to my family, for that matter."

Charmichael nodded as well and, without further comment picked up a burning stick from the fire. It didn't escape anyone's notice that the end he grasped burned as brightly as the rest of the branch, but this seemed not to bother Charmichael as he moved back to his improvised funeral pyre. Once there, he applied the flaming brand to several strategic areas and then remained for some time to make sure that the fire established itself properly.

Eventually, satisfied that he'd done what he could for the moment, Charmichael made his way back to the others once again. Picking a spot next to the pelt he'd just recovered, Charmichael lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs Indian-style. Then, looking to Jondalar a bit self-consciously, he said, "I hate to ask, but is there a chance you have… extra leather of some kind? Enough for something to cover my… male parts?"

Jondalar found that he couldn't quite hold back a grin at this; whatever this man was, apparently he had taboos about leaving his genitals exposed much as Jondalar's people did. And then something struck Jondalar that should have much earlier but had, in the larger scheme of strangenesses going on, slipped right past him.

"Great Mother!" he exclaimed. "You must be freezing! There's snow on the ground here, and you've been stark naked since this started! I don't know of anything I might have that would fit you, but I'll look in my packs right now!"

But Charmichael just shook his head and said, "No, I'm not cold. It would take much more cold before I felt it. But… well, I'm just not comfortable walking around with my parts hanging out. It's not… dignified. And I'd probably scare anyone we meet."

Grinning once more as he briefly glanced at the man and his 'equipment', built to the same scale as the man himself, Jondalar said carefully, "Yes, you may be right about that." And then, pushing himself up, he headed for Racer and his extra things, saying, "I'll see if I can't find something that will at least make a loincloth for you then."

Jondalar's expression wasn't lost on Charmichael, and he thought to himself with a mental chuckle, 'Well, nice to see sht house humor is alive and well even here.' Then, turning to Ayla, he said aloud, "Ayla, there's something else I would like help with, from either you or Jondalar."

Cocking her head slightly, curious as to what the man might want, Ayla said, "What do you need help with, Tony?"

Charmichael was a bit nonplussed at hearing his given name, but he had told her to use it after all; it was just that it had been years and years since anyone had called him that, and he figured it would take a little getting used to.

Ignoring that for the moment, Charmichael picked up the rolled fur next to him and said, "I'd like to know the best way to… prepare this. I know some ways to do it, but maybe not the best way for here. I need to know what… materials are available; that make's a difference. Also, once ready, I want to make a garment of this; I think it's the only thing I have now that might fit!"

Ayla considered this for a moment, all the implications flashing through her somewhat sedated mind. This man wanted assistance, no, **instruction** on how to tan a hide, one of the most basic skills that was taught to everyone in their youth! He said he had some idea of what to do, but it was obvious that he didn't really trust his own skill in this area. And he wanted to make a garment of a cave bear pelt… a part of Ayla, the part that still was and always would be Clan shivered a bit at this.

Aloud, she said, "Certainly Jondalar or I would be happy to help you. But we'll need time and a place to work first; this should probably wait until we reach the Losadunai. In the meantime, if you simply leave the pelt exposed to the weather, it will freeze and that should preserve it until it can be worked."

The big man nodded at this and said, "Sounds like the best idea. I'll be happy with a loincloth for now."

Ayla frowned just slightly at this, not the content of Charmichael's speech, but the quality; was his Zelandoni improving as he spoke? She was sure that it was, but decided to ignore that for the moment. The strange giant of a man would either explain himself at some point or he wouldn't, she figured. There was little she could do to force the point.

Jondalar returned as this thought was crossing Ayla's mind, a couple of fairly large pieces of leather and a few thongs in his hands. Seeing this, Charmichael stood and said, "Looks good." And then, reaching to take the materials from Jondalar he added wryly, "I think I can figure this out on my own, but it wouldn't hurt if you stood by."

Jondalar couldn't help but smile at this, and simply watched without interfering while the big man fiddled with the leather and thongs until he had something that covered his genitals and buttocks and stayed on when he let go.

"Much better," Charmichael said with obvious relief, glad to be covered at least partially. True, modesty was a concept that had changed much over the course of Charmichael's long life, and he'd adapted for the most part. But he knew that there was no way he'd ever be comfortable stark naked in front of a five-or-so-year-old girl, regardless of how she or her parents felt about it; his upbringing had been just a tad too old fashioned for that.

For a time after this, no one said anything; there didn't seem to be much to say, really. Finally, though, Charmichael looked from Ayla to Jondalar and then said, "So. When do you plan to move out towards these Losadunai?"

Jondalar considered this for a moment and then said, "I think… I think it might be best if we camp here for tonight. I know it's still early, but I don't think Ayla should travel just yet. That and I should examine the horses and all our gear a little more closely; there's no telling what might have happened on that wild gallop of theirs."

Charmichael thought about this, weighing it in his mind and then, looking to Ayla said, "You agree?"

After a moment spent thinking it over herself, Ayla replied, "I think that might be for the best. I've done the basics for myself, and at this point it wouldn't hurt to rest for a night. It will give me a chance to make up some other healing teas, and I'll be able to change the poultice in the morning. It's a bit early to tell, but the wound doesn't seem to be swelling much; I think it may not fester a lot either."

Charmichael nodded at this and said, "There shouldn't be any… festering. What I did should make sure of that."

Ayla frowned slightly at this and said, "If I may ask, just what did you do, Tony? I wasn't in any condition to see what you did to treat me, after all."

Charmichael was silent for a long moment, pondering just what his answer to that question should be. On one hand, he found himself thinking of old Star Trek re-runs he'd seen as a kid, and the Next Generation show that had come out just about the time he'd graduated R.O.T.C. and become a second lieutenant; all that Prime Directive stuff they were always spouting, and how he'd always thought it was morally bankrupt bullsht. After all, why would you go out and interact with other cultures in the first place if you didn't expect to affect them in some way? But in this case…

There'd been a temporal Prime Directive as well, he remembered; something that'd come along in later episodes of the series to deal with issues of time travel once they came into the plot line. But that was fiction, Charmichael mused to himself, and this isn't…

The Confederation had never formalized any such policies. There had never been any particular need in their history, and they tended to run with more common sense, fast and loose rules of thumb like, 'Don't screw with things any more than you have to,' and, 'If it ain't broke don't fix it.' But those guidelines had only ever been intended for space travel and for whatever you might meet in a new star system; and when for most of your history you lacked faster than light travel, it just wasn't that big an issue.

Time travel, on the other hand, was another animal entirely. And in this case it wasn't even an animal birthed by the Confederation; it was some last ditch parlor trick the Myriad had pulled out in their eleventh hour. Who knew how it worked or what all it's implications were? For all Charmichael knew, he'd already screwed his own timeline to hell and back just by saving these three people's lives.

Or maybe all that alternate universe crap was for real and it didn't really matter what he did; maybe everything that could possible happen would or already had happened somewhere. Or maybe everything he did here would average out over the next thirty thousand years and simply be lost to history. Or, just maybe, none of that was the case and time travel worked in some way that no sentient in the Confederation had thought of yet.

In the end, Charmichael came to a compromise in his mind. Applying the 'Don't screw with things any more than you have to' principle, he decided that it would be best in general to change as little as he possibly could in this place. But at the same time, he realized that a number of things had already changed catastrophically for this family and, if what he suspected was true, might just change a whole lot more before all was said and done. Not only that, but it looked like for the foreseeable future at least, Charmichael was going to be staying close to these people.

That being the case, he reached a decision that he hoped wouldn't come back to haunt him later. He decided that these people needed to know as much of what was really going on as he could possibly make them understand. He only hoped that, without a written language to record the things he was about to say, it would all fade into myth and legend within a few generations.

Finally, turning his attention away from his internal musings and back to Ayla, he said, "What did I do to treat you? Well, that's going to require a little explanation, I'm afraid…"


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19 and a few explanations from Charmichael..._

_Finally, turning his attention away from his internal musings and back to Ayla, he said, "What did I do to treat you? Well, that's going to require a little explanation, I'm afraid…"_

The man, the woman and the little girl all perked up at this, clearly anticipating whatever Charmichael had to say next. For his part, he was silent for a few moments, considering just how he wanted to present the large volume of information he knew he'd have to pass on in order to make matters even slightly clearer.

Finally he began with, "First thing, to state the obvious, I'm not exactly a normal man. Not anymore, at least. But I wasn't born this way; a very long time ago I was just like any of you." Then, looking specifically to Jonayla, he added, "And of course I was a child once, just like you are now."

He paused for a moment here, giving them a moment to digest this and then continued with, "When I was a young man, I decided to become something we call a 'Soldier'; I doubt if there's a word in Zelandoni for that… craft, but basically a Soldier is a person who stands prepared to defend his… people, his tribe, I guess, against whatever threats may come. A Soldier is someone who's always ready to fight for his people."

There were subtle frowns all around at this proclamation; frowns of incomprehension, Charmichael saw. He'd expected as much.

Finally, Ayla broke the ensuing silence with, "Ready to fight, you say? Fight what? Or who? And are such threats really so common wherever you come from that this has become an actual craft?"

"Well," Charmichael said thoughtfully, "That's one of the complicated parts I'm afraid. It isn't just a matter of where I come from, it's a matter of when."

Again a series of blank looks passed across the locals' faces, and this time it was Jondalar who spoke first.

"I'm sorry," he said, "But did I hear what you just said correctly? _When_ you come from? What does that mean, exactly?"

Charmichael thought about this for a moment and then said, "You understand the concept of time, right? I mean, Zelandoni has words for past, present and future; I've picked up that much."

Jondalar nodded and said, "Certainly. But what does that have to do with where you're from?"

"Think of the past and the future like places," Charmichael said slowly. "They're separate from the present, but that doesn't mean that they don't exist in some way. And apparently, under the right circumstances you can travel to them, just like you'd travel from one place to another here in the present."

Jondalar's frown deepened, indicating an even deeper rift in his understanding, but he said nothing for the time being. He'd decided he wanted to think this concept through and search for intelligent questions to ask before opening his mouth again.

Ayla, however, had a sudden eerie sense of what this strange man meant and felt the hair rise on the back of her neck in response. After all, hadn't she twice now thought that, under the influence of the sacred roots, she'd somehow visited a different time from her own? And not just the past; that could be explained away as simply delving into deep memories, even if they were memories she'd never known she possessed before. No, she'd had a definite sensation of surging ahead, of somehow passing up her own time and place and sailing on into what might someday be…

Aloud, she said, "I think I understand what you mean, Tony. You're trying to tell us that you're not just from some distant place; you're from a distant time as well. From the future, I suppose, since there's so much about you that's… strange and new to us."

Charmichael was a bit taken aback by how quickly the woman seemed to grasp the concept he'd been trying to convey, but he supposed he shouldn't be. These people were, after all, modern humans in every sense of the word. Just because they didn't know some of the things he did didn't mean they weren't intelligent, and obviously these people were.

After a moment's pause, he nodded and said, "That's it exactly. My time won't come for… well, it's kind of difficult to translate. I'm not sure that Zelandoni has numbers that go that high. Hmmm…" Then, after a moment spent pondering this, he had an idea.

Spreading both hands out on the ground before him, he said, "What do you call the number for a double handful of fingers?"

Jondalar fielded this question almost automatically, replying with, "We call that number ten, Tony."

Charmichael nodded at this and then said, "And do your people understand… hmm, don't have that word either. Well, if I were to say a ten of tens, would you understand what I meant?"

Jondalar nodded slowly, thinking of the number in question, and then said, "Yes, we'd understand. And I believe that number is called a hundred; it's probably one of the biggest numbers that's commonly used, though I know the Zelandonia, our experts of the spirit world, know of and use larger ones. From what I understand, they also have techniques for tallying and manipulating larger numbers as well." Then, looking to Ayla, he added a bit wryly, "Isn't that right, my little Zelandonii-in-training?"

Ayla looked a bit uncomfortable at this, thinking not for the first time that she'd never really wanted to start down the path of One Who Serves in the first place, and said, "Yes, Jondalar, that is true. And I know some of those techniques now, but you know that that knowledge is sacred and isn't supposed to be shared outside the Zelandonia. I'm… sorry for that, Jondalar."

But the blonde man just laughed and said, "I don't envy you your knowledge of numbers, Ayla; if I knew what you do I'd probably only end up with a headache anyway! Just so long as one of us knows…"

Charmichael watched the interplay between the man and woman and two things struck him at almost precisely the same time. First, the depth of feeling between the two was readily apparent to him and he thought, 'Those two really are in love; I hope to hell for their sake that everything works out.' Directly on the heels of this was a stab of pain that hit his synthetic heart as hard as if it were still human and another thought. 'Wouldn't it have been nice if there'd been a 'happily ever after' for Penny and me?'

But Charmichael thrust this thought aside as he usually did; there was little he could do about his long-lost wife. War and careers had separated them, and a Myriad bombing raid on Mars had, so far as Charmichael had been able to ascertain from ten light-years away, made their separation permanent. He was only thankful that his entire family hadn't perished in that brutal attack, though it had been decades before he'd known that for sure…

'Enough of that crap,' Charmichael thought harshly. 'I've got no time for maudlin bullsht right now; I've got a briefing to finish if I want these people to be even half-assed prepared for what might be coming.'

Aloud, and just a bit too abruptly, Charmichael said, "Yes, that'll make things easier." And then, continuing on his original thread, he said, "All right, ten tens is a hundred. Do you have a word for a hundred hundreds?"

Ayla took this question, shaking her head doubtfully. "I'm not sure," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose there must be such a word; that's one of the first lessons, that numbers go on and on forever, so long as you can keep naming them. But I've never heard a name for a number so large; who would ever need such a number, after all?"

Charmichael smiled just slightly and said, "Well, I could use it about now. But it's not that important, I guess. The bottom line is that the time I come from is about three times a hundred times a hundred years from now. A very long time in the future, I'm afraid."

All the native's minds reeled at this, and they found themselves having a hard time grasping the concept even after Charmichael's lengthy explanation. But, finally, Jondalar, possibly the most pragmatic one present, asked the most relevant question.

"So why have you come here to our time, Tony? And what sort of foul thing was that bear?"

Again Charmichael paused before answering, collecting his thoughts, and then said, "Well, that's the thing. I had no intention of coming here, and to tell the truth, I have no idea how it was done. That was all the 'bear's' doing; or, more correctly, the thing that was directing it. The Myriad."

Jondalar frowned at this and asked the obvious. "What, exactly, is a Myriad?"

"Again, that's complicated," Charmichael said a bit wearily. "But, to boil it down to basics, the Myriad are intelligent, thinking beings; they just aren't human beings."

Jondalar's brows raised in surprise and he blurted, "Excuse me? What do you mean exactly? Are they some sort of clever animal then?"

Charmichael snorted at this and then said, "Well, there's certainly some argument to be made for that, but no, not really. They're at least as smart as we are, and probably a lot smarter; we don't really know because nobody's ever been able to talk to one to find out! What we do know is that they're an old… people; a whole lot older than humans. And they've been changing and improving themselves for their whole history, near as we can tell; that's why they can do some of the crazy things they can."

Ayla chimed in at that and said, "Older than humans? Older than the Clan, even?"

Charmichael frowned slightly at this and then said, "Clan? Sorry, I hadn't picked that word up yet; I don't know what it means."

Ayla was thoughtful for just a moment, wondering just how much she should say; after all, as soon as she explained what 'Clan' meant, the next question was always, 'How do you know that?' And most people's reactions to the source of her knowledge about the Clan of the Cave Bear were invariably negative… Well, this man wasn't even from their time. Who knew what his reaction would be? There was only one way to find out, of course…

"Clan isn't a Zelandoni word," Ayla began slowly. "It's the name that the people of the Clan call themselves. It just means 'people' or 'human beings' really."

Charmichael nodded in understanding and then said, "That makes sense. So who are these 'Clan' people?"

Ayla considered this for a moment and then said, "They are an older people than we are, an… older kind of people. They have lived on this world for… well, for far longer than we have. For far more years than the number you tallied earlier. Many times that number, in fact." She paused for a moment and then continued with, "They look different from us as well. They are shorter and more muscular, and their heads are… flatter. In fact, most of our people, who they call the Others, call them… flatheads. And it's not a kind or polite word either; most of the Others regard the Clan as… animals."

Charmichael absorbed Ayla's explanation thoughtfully and then, some excitement in his tone said, "Neanderthals! That's what you're describing… Hell, I didn't even think about that! They're still around right now, aren't they…" And then, seeing a shocked expression spread across Ayla's face, Charmichael realized he might have said more than he should. 'Ah, hell,' he thought, 'I think I just let a cat out of the bag without even seeing it go.'

For her part, Ayla finally found her voice and said, "Still around now? Do you mean that… that they aren't around in your time? That the Clan… no longer exists?"

Charmichael sighed and then said, "I guess I could've put it better, but yes, that's it. By the time I was born, your Clan had been gone for a long time. A very long time." And then, seeing the woman's distress at this, Charmichael said, "Not to pry, but this seems to hit you personally somehow, Ayla." It wasn't quite a question, but the hint was there.

Ayla swallowed once and then said, "It is personal for me, Tony. When I was a child, the Clan… they were my people. I… lost my family when I was small, maybe Jonayla's age, and almost died because I didn't know how to take care of myself. I wandered and… and eventually was taken in by a clan. I lived with them for several years; I had a mother there and a man of my hearth, and I loved them very much. I would have died if not for them… but eventually I had to leave. There was an earthquake, and I had… deep problems with the new leader of the cave. But yes, Tony, certainly the eventual death of the entire Clan is a personal thing for me. How could it be otherwise?"

Charmichael digested this for several seconds, noting the young woman's depth of emotion. 'What a wild story,' he thought somewhat wonderingly. 'I'll bet there's not an archeologist alive in my time who'd even have though of something like this. But I guess history is like that; full of all kinds of stories that nobody will ever know. Well, if I ever get home, you can bet people are gonna know about this.'

Aloud, he said sympathetically, "I understand. And I'm sorry I just dropped that on you; I had no idea." Then, picking up his narrative once again, Charmichael said, "At any rate, yes, the Myriad are even older than your Clan. A lot older. In fact, we think that they may be as old as some of the younger stars out there in the sky, and that's… well, I'm sure Zelandoni doesn't have words for those numbers. Even my language doesn't use numbers that big all that often…"

Jondalar came up with the next question, asking, "If they're so old, where do they come from? Why haven't we seen them before?"

Charmichael smiled a bit grimly and then said, "You do ask the hard questions, don't you? And that one's going to be a lot of fun to answer…"

The big man was silent for quite some time after that, and the three natives began to wonder if he'd simply given up trying to make them understand what he was talking about. But finally he spoke again.

"What you have to understand is, the Myriad aren't from this world. And they won't reach it until my time. That's why you've never seen them before."

Again the three Zelandoni felt a chill of fear at Charmichael's words, and Jondalar said in a troubled tone, "Not from this world? Do you mean, then, that these… Myriad come from the spirit world? That they're malicious spirits of some kind?"

Charmichael shook his head slowly and said, "No, Jondalar, that they aren't. The Myriad are a lot of things, powerful being one of those, but there's nothing supernatural about them. Or about me for that matter."

Jondalar just shook his head as well and then said, "I don't understand then."

"Well, it's like this," Charmichael said, thinking his way through what he wanted to say as he went, "This world, The World, if you will, is only one of many. And I'm not talking about spirit worlds or whatever; I don't know anything about those kinds of things and wouldn't presume to try and tell you. What you believe about that is your own business."

After a short pause, Charmichael started once more, taking up what was apparently a different tack altogether. Addressing no one in particular, he asked, "What do you know about the stars? What do you think they are?"

Silence greeted this question for a very long time, and then a small high voice chimed in. "Mother told me once that Creb, the man of her hearth when she was growing up, told her that the stars were hearth fires. That they were the fires of every person who'd ever lived and everyone who was waiting to be born someday." Jonayla's moment of boldness faltered a bit at this point and she finished somewhat tentatively with, "That seemed to make sense to me."

Charmichael nodded slowly at this, and then said, "That's probably one of the best metaphors for the stars that I've ever heard. And it's true in a way… The stars are like hearth fires for whoever lives around them, and you can certainly say that all those stars are potential hearths for a lot of people who haven't been born yet." He paused for a moment here and then said, "Physically, though, the stars are just like the sun. Identical, in fact, except for details like size, color, and… heat. They're just a lot farther away, far enough to look like little points of light instead of great big balls of fire."

None of the others had any idea what to say to this, or even what to think, really, and so Charmichael continued. "The point is," he said slowly, "A lot of those stars have worlds a lot like this one. Those stars keep those worlds warm just like the sun for this world, and, just like here, a lot of those worlds have living things on them. Some of them even have thinking creatures, though none we've met are much like human beings. And some world out there, some time in the distant past was home to the Myriad."

The three Zelandoni struggled to assimilate this information, and Ayla jumped in to ask, "Tony, assuming that this is true, how is it that your people know all of this? If the stars are as you say, and they're so far away, how could you possibly…"

Charmichael smiled once more, a certain amount of pride in it, and said, "Because we've been there, Ayla. Getting there certainly wasn't easy; you could say that it's a project that started way before your time with the first person who ever figured out that you can cut things with a sharp rock. From there, every new tool, every innovation that human beings ever thought up became part of that project; you could say that every generation of human beings that ever lived had something to do with it. And eventually we made it; we figured out how to build tools that let us reach the stars."

Charmichael let that sink in for a moment and then continued with, "And that's what I want you to understand. Nothing you've seen from me or that 'bear' is magical or supernatural. It all has to do with years and years of innovation and all of the fancy tools that came out of that."

From where he sat, his brow furrowed in troubled concentration, Jondalar said, "You say that, but what kind of tool could do the things we saw? I can't even imagine such a thing…"

In answer, Charmichael pointed to the fire the huddled around and said, "Tell me this. How did you start that fire earlier?"

A bit puzzled by the change of subject, Jondalar replied, "I used a fire stone and a piece of flint to get a spark and then blew that to life on some tinder. Once that was done, I just added bigger pieces of wood until it was burning properly. Why do you ask? You watched me do it, if I recall."

The big man nodded slowly and then said, "And is this the commonly used technique? Do most people start a fire that way?"

Now Jondalar began to see what the other man was getting at and, a look of understanding coming to his eyes said, "No, they don't! The technique is spreading, mostly with traders and what not, but Ayla was the one who discovered it! Most people still use a drill and platform to make fire!"

Charmichael nodded again and said, "And when someone sees this for the first time; has anyone ever accused you of doing magic?"

Jondalar nodded as well and said a bit excitedly, "Yes, yes they have! Of course, there must be some magic involved, but it's in the stone, not the person using the stone. The stone itself is… a tool."

"Exactly," Charmichael said decisively. "And I won't argue whether there's magic in it or not; that's for you to decide. But it's the same with the Myriad or with me; we both carry tiny, powerful tools inside us and those are what let us do the things we do. That and… the Myriad have made changes to themselves over time; tried to make their race as strong and powerful as they possibly could. In order to fight that, we've had to do the same, to a select few people at least."

"So you were remade somehow to fight these Myriad?" Ayla asked.

"Something like that," Charmichael said a bit distantly. "More like improved; I'd already been remade a long time ago. The Myriad aren't the first threat my people have faced; they're just the worst so far. And, truth to tell, we were our own worst enemies for a long time; the very first creatures I was remade to fight were other human beings, I'm afraid."


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20 and a little action here, if only inside Durc's troubled dreams. Enjoy!_

_Still, knowing there was little she could do until Durc woke, she slowly stood and began to move slowly back toward her aborted project in the crafting area. But she knew she'd keep half an eye on her mate while she worked, and fully intended to have not only a meal and a hot drink ready for him when he stirred; she knew she'd have questions as well._

As Ura shuffled off toward the crafting area, Durc continued to slumber soundly behind her. Or so it appeared; in fact, while he certainly slept deeply, his slumber proved to be far from restful.

Inside Durc's dozing mind, the events he'd lived through in the spirit cave so recently came back to him, playing themselves out in an eerie kind of disjointed slow motion. As well, he found himself curiously detached somehow, watching everything from an odd third-person point of view; it was as if he were just an observer of some sort, not one of those involved. Strangely, though, his former self _was_ one of the participants, going through the same actions he remembered, and no one he saw seemed to perceive him, the second Durc, watching from beside them.

A part of Durc knew that he was dreaming; what else could it be? But another part wasn't so sure. This dream held a quality he'd never quite felt before; a kind of clarity that was somehow surreal at the same time. It reminded him, he realized with a start, of a journey through the spirit realms.

And that in itself was strange, Durc thought inside the dream; that he should be lucid enough for such thoughts _while_ dreaming. Together, these two realizations put him on his guard, and he continued to watch the events he was only too familiar with play themselves out a bit warily now.

He saw himself finish invoking the spirits as he remembered, and then caught the first hint of the strangeness that had followed. It started with an odd expression on his mentor Goov's face, which had quickly spread to everyone else's, his own included.

And then the air in front of his former self began to shimmer and shift and finally split asunder, leaving a ragged, dark hole into nowhere gaping before him. Durc remembered his terror and sheer incomprehension at this event, which had only grown worse with what he knew was about to happen next.

Sure enough, as he and all the other men looked on dazedly, it happened; that foul, black murky tendril began to emerge from the rift, groping toward Durc's former self. But then events began to diverge from what he remembered and head down a different path entirely.

As he watched, Durc saw himself freeze up in the face of the unknown horror rather than instinctively combating it as he had in actuality. This Durc, for whatever reason, was apparently a bit more shaken by the creature's appearance, or perhaps had drunk just a sip more datura than Durc himself had, slowing his reactions fractionally. Whatever the case, this Durc simply failed to act as the Durc who watched had and the consequences quickly became apparent.

The young man in question did begin to move eventually, and not much later than Durc had in actuality, but it was too late. As this dream-Durc began to raise his hand to block the tentacle's path it suddenly shot forward, blurring into motion on a trajectory that landed it squarely between Durc's eyes. It struck with unguessable velocity and appeared to penetrate the young man's skull like a stick would a hot lump of fat. But there was no gout of blood, no spray of gray matter and bone; only a piercing scream in the young man's voice.

Durc-the-dreamer looked on in mute horror at what followed, a kind of sick, peristaltic undulation that began where the appendage that was impaled in his dream-self's skull emerged from the rift in the air. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, but he could imagine something, some foul venom, being pumped from whatever the thing was into the hapless young man before him.

This went on for several moments, the tendril pumping its ichor, the other Durc screaming, the men looking on in helpless horror, and then, finally it stopped. First the appendage quit its rippling and almost immediately the young man ceased to scream. And then the tendril began to withdraw, simply sliding from Durc's skull with nary a mark left behind, the young acolyte collapsing to hands and knees as it did so.

And then the tentacle continued to withdraw, rapidly vanishing into the shimmering hole it'd come from. This in turn swiftly collapsed and disappeared itself, leaving nothing behind to mark its passage besides a muffled bang just like the one the dreaming-Durc remembered from his own experiences.

The other men continued to stand, shocked and utterly unsure of what to do next for several moments, before one of them finally made a move. It was Goov who managed to break his paralysis first, and then only out of concern for his young apprentice. With a cry of concern, he sprang forward, dropping to a knee beside Durc and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Durc!" he yelled. "Durc, are you all right?"

But the young man didn't answer, didn't move; he simply stayed as he was, on hands and knees, breathing hard. And, watching from outside the circle of other men, dreaming-Durc had a sudden, sickening feeling that something was very wrong.

Durc's intuition was very quickly confirmed as his dream-self finally moved. He raised his head in a strange, jerky fashion, as though unused to the movement, fixing the somewhat startled mog-ur with his gaze, a gaze that was no longer Durc's. Indeed, it no longer even appeared to be human.

Where Durc's eyes were the same deep, liquid brown as any other man of the Clan's, this creature's were suddenly the same inky black of the tendril that had pierced its skull, and shimmered in the same otherworldly manner. The mog-ur froze at this, unable even to utter a cry of terror, and in the next instant it was far too late for that.

Moving faster than Durc had ever seen any living thing move, the creature that had been him raised a hand from the cave floor and thrust it violently toward the stunned mog-ur. And though that hand moved almost too quick to see, Durc was almost certain that it too had begun to emit the same balefire glow as the creature's eyes. Either way, the results of this sudden attack were immediate and spectacular.

There was a sickening sound as the creature's hand struck Goov's chest, a sort of wet tearing and a dry crackling at the same time and, unbelievably, the hand didn't slow with the impact. Instead, it seemed to go right through the wall of Goov's chest like a spear. Then, even more incredibly, it emerged once more, this time from the mog-ur's back, more nauseating noises accompanying it. And, most gruesome of all, clutched in that blackly shimmering hand was what could only be the mog-ur's heart, still pulsating weakly.

For his part, Goov died without even a cry; he simply collapsed over onto his side, an expression of shock and puzzlement frozen on his face. At this point, the other men did begin to move, some of them leaping forward with roars of outrage, apparently intending to smite whatever foul thing had appeared in their midst with their bare hands. Some of the others cringed back, frantically seeking the cave's exit, their vaunted Clan courage shattered by what they'd just seen. But in the end it made no difference who charged and who fled; all of their fates were sealed, they simply didn't know it yet.

Durc-the-dreamer could only look on helplessly at what ensued; he knew instinctively somehow that he really was only an observer here and could have no effect on the events he was witnessing. Instead, he stood mutely as the creature, he could no longer think of it as any part of himself, blurred into motion, sliding its hand from the dead mog-ur's chest and tossing Goov's savaged heart away casually.

From there, the creature waded into the men around it, becoming a whirling, blurred path of death that wandered its way around the small cavern. None of the men were able to move quickly enough to even raise a hand in defense, much less actually strike at the beast and wherever it moved bodies shattered and blood sprayed, coating the walls and ceiling of the cave in a slick red glaze. And then, more quickly than Durc could comprehend, it was done; every man in Broud's clan lay dead at the beast's feet in the spirit cave. But apparently it wasn't done yet.

Turning without a backward glance, with no regard whatsoever for what it had just done, the beast began with the slow stride of a confident predator to move toward the spirit cave's entrance. It passed Durc by on the way, however, and then it did hesitate. In fact, it stopped where it stood and turned its sepulchral gaze toward the young man, appearing to regard him thoroughly for several moments. And then, dismissing the young man, it just as quickly turned back toward the cave's mouth and stepped through.

Durc stood where he was, practically rooted to the spot by sheer horror; he couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. But if he doubted, he realized, the bodies were still strewn all about for him to see…

And then, if possible, it all got even worse. It was some distance through several intervening chambers between the spirit cave and the clan's living spaces, but apparently the creature had covered it quickly; at least, that's what the high-pitched feminine screams reaching Durc's ears told him. He stood there for as long as he could stand it, more screams and other, less identifiable noises assailing his ears, and then finally he'd had enough. With a cry of anguish, he rushed from the spirit cave, sprinting through the narrow tunnels and small grottos towards the main cavern.

As he burst out into the clan's living area, a scene almost beyond his imagination met Durc's eyes. It was like the spirit cave, only more spread out; here, the beast had had more room to work, but it'd gone about its errand just as quickly and efficiently. There were bodies and pieces of bodies scattered all around, and fine spatters of red over everything. And in the center of it all, just standing now, looking about impassively was the creature; the monster with his face.

It was more than Durc could bear, and he felt his knees turn to water under him, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. He knelt there, misery slashing through him, and found himself utterly incapable of looking in the direction of his own hearth. He was sure that whatever he might see there would be too much for his already abused mind and that it would be the end for him as a rational, thinking man. Instead, he simply threw his head back and yelled a single word, the only word he could even imagine uttering at that point.

"Nooooo!"

And then Durc was suddenly, wrenchingly elsewhere, his eyes flying open almost spasmodically. His gaze darted left and right then, taking in everything around him in a flash. His body felt as if on fire, ready to run or fight as needs be, but as he saw what was around him he slowly began to relax.

He was, he saw, in his own hearth, on his own sleeping furs in fact. Around him, outside the boundaries of his hearth, the normal activities of the clan were proceeding as usual. And in front of him sat his mate, her head bowed demurely as she waited for him to acknowledge her, a cup of some hot beverage in her hand.

This brought the final touch of relief for Durc and he felt the tension drain out of him. Or, he realized with a frown, most of it.

He reached out then, tapping Ura gently on the shoulder. Still disturbed or not, he had no desire to keep his mate waiting. He knew her well enough to know that she'd have questions of course, questions that he couldn't answer at present, but he didn't really care. He'd tell her what he could and let her know that there were things that he couldn't tell her, both because of the mog-ur's order and because they were outside the purview of what a Clan woman was supposed to know. At the moment, however, he found that he simply wanted to hear her voice; the dream was still far too fresh in his mind.

As soon as Durc's finger touched Ura's shoulder, she looked up at him, an expression of concern impossible to hide on her face. At the same time she reached forward, offering the hot tea to him. "This woman would offer a hot drink and a meal to her mate, if he so desires," she said without preamble.

Durc grunted in acknowledgment, as much of a kindly gesture as any man of the Clan would have offered, and took the cup gratefully. Somehow, his throat felt as dry as the loess steppes, and there was a foul taste in his mouth that he didn't want to speculate on. Aloud he said, "That would be good, Ura. I am very hungry all of a sudden for some reason…"

Ura took this as an opening of sorts and said, "I can believe that, Durc. You were exhausted when Grev brought you here." Then, realizing that there was really no Clan-like way to continue her inquiry, Ura instead put her faith on the special bond that she and Durc seemed to share. Fumbling for a moment, she finally said, "Durc, what happened to you? I know I shouldn't ask, but you looked so bad when you came back to the hearth! I… I was worried. I thought maybe you were hurt somehow."

Durc was silent for many moments after this, so long that Ura began to fear that she really had gone too far and he was considering how to punish her for her transgression. But finally Durc spoke, saying in a careful tone, "I can't explain this to you, Ura. Not now and maybe not ever. Something… did happen to me, but mog-ur has forbidden anyone to speak of it until he's had a chance to meditate on its significance. I shouldn't even be telling you this, Ura; such things aren't for women of the Clan to know."

Ura considered this for a moment, catching some of the nuance and undertone of what her mate was saying, and then said, "I understand, Durc. And I shouldn't have asked; as you say, such things aren't for Clan women to know. But I appreciate you telling me as much as you did, and I think both of us know that neither of us is… entirely Clan."

Durc did something then that he very rarely did, and then only in the presence of his mate; he smiled. Ura had been shocked the first time she'd seen him do that; she had been the only person she'd ever known who smiled when she was happy, and that tendency had been largely suppressed when she was a very small child. No one in her clan had appreciated it, surely, and her mother had discouraged it to the best of her ability. But with Durc, she'd learned to smile again, if only in the privacy of their own hearth and she'd re-discovered just how good it could feel.

In this case, Durc smiled mostly at the brazenness of his mate, a trait that few other men of the Clan would have admired, but that he normally found he couldn't get enough of. Well, mostly, anyway; no mating was perfect, after all. But in this case he had to admire it, and he knew exactly what Ura meant. They were both different, both touched by the Others, and that was something that they both knew without question.

Let the Clan say that they were deformed; Durc knew better. His mother had been a woman of the Others and, apparently, Ura's mother's totem had been defeated by one of their men. It seemed only obvious, then, that their so-called deformity, which made them so resemble the Others, must instead be a mixture of some sort, a blending of the totem spirits. It was a discussion that the two of them had had with one another more than once, within the boundaries of their hearthstones, and they both believed it.

Aloud, Durc said gently, "No, my mate, that we aren't. But even so, there are limits to how far we can allow our differences to take us from the ways of the Clan. And in this case, I must respect my master's judgment."

Ura nodded in acknowledgment and said, "Of course, my mate. It could be no other way." And then, remembering the suddenness of Durc's awakening, though thankfully she'd gauged things well enough to have his dinner ready beforehand, Ura said, "You seemed… disturbed when you awoke. Were your dreams unpleasant?"

Durc had to repress a shudder at this, which of course didn't escape Ura's notice, and said, "Unpleasant is very much an understatement, Ura. Unpleasant and… distressing, I'm afraid."

Ura brows came up in surprise at this and she said, "Distressing? Distressing in what way, Durc?"

Durc was silent again for several moments and then said, "I can't really explain that to you either, I'm afraid. It has to do with what happened earlier. But… Ura, I have the feeling that what I dreamed wasn't really a dream at all! I think… I think that it was a vision of some sort, maybe even a vision from the spirits. I shouldn't even be telling you this, but…"

And then, blanching suddenly as an epiphany hit him, Durc stammered, "Ura, Broud is right! Maybe not for the right reasons, but… !" Then, focusing his gaze on his mate intently, Durc went on in a voice abruptly strong with conviction, "Ura, I don't know how to tell you this, but as quickly as we can, we need to prepare to leave this place. Not tonight, but as soon as possible. We have to leave this clan, or it may not survive to see summer!"


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter 21 and a little more of Madenia and Joanne. _

_But this innocent platitude only seemed to add to Joanne's frustration, and in a tone laced with more than a little apprehension she said, "That's just it, Madenia. What if everything isn't all right? What if I do remember everything and discover that I don't want to? I haven't said so up until now, but from what little I do remember, Madenia, I'm afraid that wherever I came from isn't a very nice place at all."_

Joanne's proclamation effectively closed the conversation she and Madenia had been having; Madenia had no idea what to say or even what to think. Instead, they returned to the business of choosing suitable outfits for the night and, after surprisingly little deliberation came up with two they thought would serve.

Madenia hadn't brought what she considered a lot along, but she had found that the horse let her pack far more than she would have carried on foot. That being the case, in addition to the Sharamudoi matrimonial tunic, too special to wear, there were a few others to choose from but not many. In the end, Madenia chose for Joanne, at her insistence since she claimed to have no idea what was appropriate, a particularly dark brown tunic made of roe deer hide.

It was cut long and at a slight slant, creating the effect of a knee-length skirt when tied at the waist with the matching braided leather belt that came with it. As well, it was decorated with intricate beadwork in a number of materials and colors and dyed quills also. For footgear, Madenia lent Joanne a set of knee-high soft-skinned boots of a similar color with lacings that had been dyed a creamy yellow and crisscrossed from bottom to top where they were tied.

Normally, Madenia would have offered Joanne something for her hair as well; she'd brought a few strings of beads and whatnot with her for just such an occasion. But Joanne's hair was far too short to take any real ornamentation, she realized belatedly; it was probably no more than half the length of a finger on the top of her head and not much more than a short stubble on the sides and back. No, Madenia had nothing to offer Joanne that would compliment such a hairstyle, and so she simply refrained from mentioning anything and moved on.

For herself, Madenia chose a somewhat lighter colored outfit, more toward tan in color but with a subtle red overtone. It was an experiment of hers in leatherworking, one that she'd liked the results of; it hadn't failed to elicit comments every time she'd worn it so far, and she figured it'd do for the night ahead.

The garment was made of soft doe's skin as well and, like the other, cut as a short skirt, though with a more even rather than slanted hem that sported a fringe of brown fox tails all around. It too held its share of beadwork, in this case an interesting combination of polished amber and ivory dyed a number of colors and the whole arranged in pleasing geometric patterns over the torso and around the waist. Because of this arrangement, the garment was worn without a belt, but was slit down the back and equipped with a crisscrossing lace that provided a corset-like effect when tied. As well, it was cut somewhat low in the front, exposing a fair amount of cleavage, and this was fringed with foxtails like the hem. On her feet, Madenia wore a set of calf-length indoor boots made of the same leather as the tunic and laced with thongs dyed the same color.

For her hair, Madenia chose a string of beads she'd made the previous winter, one of those projects undertaken mostly to combat boredom but that had turned out well. It was made up of animal's teeth, small freshwater shells and a number of rather unusual rounded blue-green stones that she'd polished to a high luster. She'd arranged these materials in a regular alternating pattern down the string which was tied at each end to hold its contents rather than joined to form a circle, and the overall effect was rather pleasing. With a bit of help from Joanne, Madenia wound this through her wavy, somewhat kinky brown hair in what they both agreed was an interesting way and complemented the rest of her outfit well.

Madenia had brought a few pieces of jewelry with her, bracelets and earrings for the most part, but decided to forego these for this evening at least. After all, from what Talut and Mamut had said, it was to be basically an informal gathering, really just an excuse to eat and drink and tell stories. Madenia figured that she'd do best to hold something in reserve for a more formal occasion.

Once their preparations for the evening were done and all of Madenia's extra things packed away again, there was little else for the two to do except step out from behind the drapes around Madenia's bedding platform where they'd been working. As soon as they did so, their eyes confirmed what their ears had already told them; most of the Camp was already at the Mammoth Hearth, and most of the preparations for the feast were already laid out.

There was a momentary lull in the din of conversation that had been going on for some time when the two emerged, and both were immediately self-conscious. But the talk quickly started up again, and neither of the women could miss a number of appreciative comments and looks directed their way. Apparently, Lion Camp as a whole approved of what they saw.

Everyone seemed to take the two women's appearance as a final signal for the festivities to begin, and all began to line up near the long tables that had been erected to hold the various dishes prepared for the evening. Madenia noticed, however, that no one made a move to begin serving themselves and, remembering the instructions she and Joanne had received beforehand, moved to the head of the line, Joanne falling in behind her.

Talut and Mamut had told them that it was their custom to serve guests, especially female guests first under such circumstances, but there had been a moment of uncertainty when it came to which guest would be first. It had been quickly resolved, though; Joanne had simply said that, so far as she was concerned, Madenia could head up the line. Not only had she saved Joanne's life, she argued, but she had a far better idea of the proper etiquette to follow and Joanne would be just as comfortable shadowing her moves.

This had made sense to all concerned, and so that was how it was done. Madenia looked around the gathered camp before she began serving herself, noting the various types of finery everyone had donned for the occasion, and, finding Talut, quickly met his gaze. Talut gave a barely discernable nod as Madenia did so, confirming that she should proceed and so she did.

Madenia had brought along her own personal eating dishes and utensils, of course, to include an eating knife, and she used these as she moved efficiently but without haste down the table, taking small samples of most of the dishes. They all looked enticing, but she figured that she'd never have room for one of everything, either on her plate or in her belly and besides, nothing said she couldn't come back for more later if this proved not to be the case.

Madenia also saw with a small pang of guilt that someone had made sure that her own dish, made up largely of thin sliced spiced meats with a sauce that incorporated horseradish and a few other things, had made it to the table. She'd essentially finished it before she and Joanne had been called in by Talut and Mamut, but had more or less forgotten about it in the rush to find suitable clothing afterwards. She was glad that it hadn't been abandoned, but she did wonder just who she owed for this particular favor.

Behind Madenia, Joanne followed closely, watching what the other woman did and the selections she made. She'd been lent eating utensils, to include a personal eating knife even before they'd returned to the Camp, and she used those now, careful to imitate the manners of the young woman in front of her. Though she couldn't remember, she had the feeling that she'd dealt with situations of etiquette in the past, and she wanted to make as good an impression on these people who'd been so kind to her as she could.

Once the two women began to make their way down the table, the rest of the Camp followed suit, arranged in whatever order their traditions dictated. A part of Joanne registered this, and she realized that this was familiar as well. Again, she couldn't quite wrap her mind around the memories, but she suddenly felt very out of place so near the head of the line. It struck her that, wherever it was she came from, the higher one was ranked, the farther back in line one normally was; senior leaders were supposed to make sure that their subordinates ate first and think of their own needs only when everyone they were responsible for was taken care of. This was, she realized, how things had been for most of her life; it was that ingrained. But this wasn't wherever she'd come from and these people had their own way of doing things…

It didn't take long for everyone to serve themselves and once they had they quickly sorted themselves out into small groups to eat. Very soon after this, Talut disappeared briefly into one of the lodge's storage areas, re-emerging soon after with a large water skin under his arm. He began to circulate from group to group then, making rounds of a sort, and poured a bit of whatever was in the water skin for whoever was willing to take it, basically every adult member of the Camp.

When he reached Madenia and Joanne, he held the bag out, an eyebrow cocked wryly in a silent question. Both women looked at each other briefly, shrugged, and then looked to Talut. Finally, raising her cup a bit warily, Joanne said, "So what's in the bag, Talut?"

The big man cracked a grin at this and said, "Why, nothing but happiness and bliss of course."

At this, a voice that Madenia recognized as belonging to the dark skinned carver Ranec called out from nearby, "And a whopping headache in the morning if you should decide to get a little too happy tonight!"

The headman's grin widened at this and he said, "Well, that too of course. But it's worth it every once in a while and besides, Nezzie still remembers the recipe Ayla gave her for her miraculous morning after tea. With that to look forward to, you needn't fear a little headache, let me tell you!" Then, seeing the still dubious expression on Joanne's face and the knowing one on Madenia's, he added, "It's just a little fermented drink that I call bouza. I enjoy making it, and it offers a little… relaxation of inhibitions for an occasion like this. Surely you're both familiar with such things?"

Madenia nodded and said, "Yes, Losadunai have… similar drinks. I not drink much, though; not like to lose control of self."

For her part, Joanne thought for a moment and then said, "I think my people call drinks like that 'alcohol'. And I don't think I did a lot of drinking where I came from either; I don't think it was encouraged and… well, for some reason I just don't think it was that popular. I don't think alcohol does much for my people…" There was a cryptic note in her voice for this last comment, as if she were unsure of what she was saying, but in her mind it rang true.

Finally, shrugging once more, Joanne raised her cup to Talut and said, "Well, either way, there's no reason to refuse a little hospitality, I guess. Fill 'er up, please!"

"That's the spirit," the older man said with a chuckle, filling her cup up to the rim. And then, turning a far too innocent glance toward the other woman he said, "Madenia?"

With a sigh and a sheepish grin she raised her cup as well and said, "I guess it rude to say no, but I really not want much, Talut. I like to keep… wits about me."

The red haired man chuckled again at his and, filling her cup as full as Joanne's said, "A very sound idea, my dear. And you'll need those wits, too; you're going to be first pick when it comes storytelling time, you realize!"

Madenia just smiled to this, already knowing that that would be the case, and took a sip of the beverage she'd just been served. She swished it around in her mouth briefly and then raised her eyebrows appreciatively as she swallowed. Aloud she said, "This good. Stronger than it taste, I think, but it not… bite back so much. I like it."

For her part, Joanne had sampled her drink as well and, nodding slowly said, "Not bad. I only wish I could remember what I had to compare it to."

Talut took these comments as high praise and, beaming said, "Glad that you ladies appreciate the fruits of this headman's humble hobby. And, rest assured, you'll get the chance to sample more before the night's through!" With this he moved on, dispensing both drinks and conversation as he went, the very incarnation of the jolly host.

Once a majority of the Camp had eaten their fill and were beginning to put their plates aside, someone decided to move things along to the next level and a drum began to play. A couple of other instruments joined in almost immediately, to include a high pitched flute of some sort. The arrangement was obviously impromptu and evolved as it was played, but both of the newcomers found it both pleasing and evocative.

Soon the music began to pick up speed and energy, as if the musicians had found their pace, and then the dancing began. As he often was, even in his advancing years, Talut was the first to take the floor. His dancing was both athletic and energetic and involved a fair amount of outright acrobatics as well as many maneuvers that were obviously crafted purely for humor's sake.

Talut was the first to dance, but he wasn't alone for long. Not surprisingly, he was soon followed into the limelight the first to follow being the son of his hearth, Danug. This wasn't unusual; the young man often followed after the man of his hearth on such occasions, knowing the effect this had on others. It was always a novelty to see the two men, so nearly identical except for their age, dancing together and then, invariably against one another in a friendly but nevertheless intense contest.

The younger man knew that the older man's skill was still superior to his, but he tried to make up for that in sheer enthusiasm. That and he knew that he had the other man in endurance; they were almost equally matched in strength and agility, but Danug knew all he had was outlast the older man who was finally slowing down ever so slightly in his later years. For his part, Talut knew this as well and so simply did his best to outdo the younger man with sheer panache while his stamina lasted.

Both men took great delight in this game and there was never really a 'winner' or a 'loser'; the entire Camp won as far as everyone was concerned and they all experienced a side-splitting good time watching the two men cavort and prance and caper so energetically. Not only that but of course such action was contagious.

Within a matter of minutes, most of the Camp had joined the dance, even many of the children, and Madenia and Joanne could only exchange another cryptic look. Then, everything that needed to being communicated by this and the shrug that followed, they both hastily set their drinks down and leapt into the fray, a matched set of childish grins splitting their faces.

The dancing seemed to last forever, and both women found themselves enjoying it far more than they thought they might; the general merriment was infectious, and the sheer physical exercise gave them both a warm flush. Madenia, of course, was familiar with such things, though the music and the steps themselves were exotic to her. But that was half the fun of a long Journey, after all and she soaked it all up enthusiastically.

Joanne, on the other hand, was quite sure she'd never experienced anything like this before. Certainly she was familiar with the concept of dancing, and even knew dimly that she'd danced before, but never anything like this. This was more visceral, more raw somehow than anything she could've imagined previously. It was as if this were the primal essence of dancing, the very root of the activity, and whatever she'd experienced in her past was just a washed out reflection of it, though she sensed that the trappings had been far flashier. No, this was much more immediate and she felt a connection with the people around her that she doubted she'd ever felt while engaged in such activity before.

Eventually, though, the dancing did wind down; people began to tire and, individually, in couples and in larger groups they dropped out, settling themselves in for what they knew would come next. After a time, the Camp as a whole had called it a night so far as the dancing was concerned, and they all sat in their various places with expectant looks on their faces. Expectant looks that were, Madenia quickly realized, directed mostly at her.

About that time the red headed headman, who'd bowed out of the dance some time ago and had been simply been observing the frolic from the wings came forward. Taking measured strides, he nonchalantly made his way to the two newcomers, who'd moved away from the limelight by now as well. Placing a hand on Madenia's shoulder as he reached them, Talut said, "Well, my dear, I believe it's about that time. I think everyone here would like to know of your Journey and just how you came to be here in Lion Camp."


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter 22 and this one is a little short. If I remember correctly, I wrote this one while on the way back from Washington D.C. and didn't have as much time at the motel as I thought I was going to. Sorry about that, but I guess I'll go ahead and post chapter 23 to make up for it._

_Placing a hand on Madenia's shoulder as he reached them, Talut said, "Well, my dear, I believe it's about that time. I think everyone here would like to know of your Journey and just how you came to be here in Lion Camp."_

Madenia was silent for several moments after this, a thoughtful but curiously blank look on her face. She'd known this moment was coming all night, and on one level she very much wanted to tell her story to these people, but on another she found herself feeling unaccountably shy for some reason. True, she'd been shy and timid at one time, largely due to her treatment at Charoli and his followers' hands. But she'd spent years overcoming that and had thought herself at least as comfortable speaking to groups of people as anyone who wasn't the leader of a Cave or One Who Served could be.

No, she finally realized, it wasn't just butterflies in the stomach or anything that simple; it was just that she wanted to make as good an impression with these people, Ayla's adopted people, as she could. She'd been thinking all afternoon of just what she wanted to say and how to present it, and she was still unsure of some of the things she had to declare. In particular, there was the incident with Charoli… there was really no way to avoid mentioning what had happened in some fashion, she knew. As horrible as it'd been, she recognized that Charoli's attack on her had been a pivotal moment in her life. It had shattered the girl she'd been and set her on the path to becoming the woman she was today. There was no way to explain what Ayla and Jondalar had done for her, she thought, without explaining why she'd needed their help in the first place.

The problem, of course, was that everyone had been so wrapped up with keeping her stories fresh for tonight that not even Talut or Mamut had given her a chance to discuss this with them beforehand, something she'd very much have liked to do. There were few taboo subjects among the peoples she'd met thus far, not even in front of children. But what had been done to her was ranked as an Abomination in the eyes of the Mother and such things had to be spoken of a bit obliquely, especially around the little ones. It wasn't as if she bore any blame or shame for what had happened, of course; she simply didn't want to shock or offend anyone in the course of telling her tale, and that meant she'd have to be both creative and careful with her wording. No mean feat for someone who was still less than fluent in the language, she knew all too well.

Finally, taking a last swig from her cup to bolster her courage a bit, Madenia nodded and slowly stepped out in front of the assembled group. Immediately, the hearth quieted and, as she gazed slowly around at all those assembled, trying to gauge her audience a bit, a subtle air of expectancy began to assert itself; Lion Camp was more than ready to by now to hear their young guest's story.

Madenia gave it just a moment more, drawing on some of what she'd learned from Losaduna about timing and building anticipation and gained an unseen nod of appreciation from old Mamut who watched from the wings. He didn't miss this subtle trick, it was one he used himself almost without thought. But the fact that Madenia knew and used it as well told him more than she could've guessed about her and the training Mamut now knew she must've received…

And then the young woman began to speak, breaking the subtle tension that no one had even realized had been established. "People of Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, children of the Great Mother of All, called Mut by you and also known as Duna by my people, I am Madenia of the Cave of the Sacred Hot Springs of the Losadunai, daughter of Verdegia, one of Duna's blessed. In the name of the Mother, I greet you all and, if you like, I will tell you my story now."

This brought a flurry of encouraging nods and comments and several calls of, "Yes, of course!" And, "Yes! Let's hear it!"

Madenia gave this a few moments to die down and then, a somewhat serious expression on her face said, "First, I must say, some of my story a little… disturbing. When I was twelve summers, just after I became a woman… something very bad happen to me. Something I not sure you want children to hear; it that bad. But it part of what make me who I am now, and it reason that I end up so… close to Ayla and Jondalar. I not be able to tell that part of story without telling other, I afraid."

There was a moment's silence from the audience at this as they digested what Madenia had said. No one seemed to notice that her diction had slipped a little from her initial speech at least, Madenia observed; she'd practiced her introduction in her mind all afternoon, and had asked several people for the right words over the course of the day. But everything else she needed to say was going to have to come out on an impromptu basis, she realized, and she only hoped that everyone would understand her language difficulties.

Finally, Tulie spoke up from where she stood off to one side, keeping a subtle eye on the proceedings much as her brother did from across the hearth. "Madenia my dear, anything that you have to say in order to get your story across will be just fine. We're an outspoken people by our nature, and I doubt that there's much you could say that would truly shock or offend anyone here. Still, the fact that you felt you needed to warn us ahead of time is appreciated and, I think, reflects very well upon you and the people you come from. By all means, dear, continue."


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter 23 and again not a long one. Well, it's basically just the second part of the last chapter so take them as a set, I guess! Also, not sure when the next update will be; it looks like my wife has finally gone into labor this morning, only a week and two days past the projected due date. About time, I'd say..._

_Finally, Tulie spoke up from where she stood off to one side, keeping a subtle eye on the proceedings much as her brother did from across the hearth. "Madenia my dear, anything that you have to say in order to get your story across will be just fine. We're an outspoken people by our nature, and I doubt that there's much you could say that would truly shock or offend anyone here. Still, the fact that you felt you needed to warn us ahead of time is appreciated and, I think, reflects very well upon you and the people you come from. By all means, dear, continue."_

Madenia took a moment more to compose herself, grateful for Tulie's words of encouragement but still trying to figure the best way to present her tale. Finally, shrugging mentally, she just picked a point and began.

"I guess I could begin story when I leave Cave of Sacred Hot Springs, or maybe before, when I find Shadow, but I think I have to start before that…" She paused for a moment here and then continued with, "Like I say before, when I twelve summers old, a very bad thing happen to me, something that… shouldn't happen to anybody. I was out near river, setting snares; I just learning how to do and like it when I catch something. I… just become woman not long before and this in winter, before Summer Meeting, so I not yet have First Rites."

She paused again here, an expression of old pain, unmistakable to her audience, crossing her face. No one was quite sure where she was going yet, but some of those assembled, especially the old Mamut, began to have an inkling at least.

Finally Madenia found her voice again and continued with, "I not notice group of young men at first. I too busy with snares. But I notice when they come up, start talking. I not sure who they are, but think I know some from other Caves. Then I think about stories I hearing, about young men who left Caves years ago, go out and make trouble for… flatheads? Bother them, make them mad and abuse them. And then I remember same men caught… taking things not theirs from different Caves. I think then these must be same men, bad men and I get scared."

Madenia's audience was rapt by now, caught up in her tale so simply told. The younger ones found themselves wondering, 'And what then?' Some of the older ones found themselves afraid that they already knew.

"I right to be scared," Madenia said in a small voice. "Men nice at first, try to just make talk. But then… then they start to touch me and… and talk about things that have nothing to do with snares. Then somebody mention Pleasures… I tell them I not yet full woman, that I not able to do that yet even if I want to with any of them. But they not listen, they just get rougher, start… teasing, pushing me around. I scream, tell them to leave me alone; they don't." Madenia paused here again, her expression unreadable, and her audience, by now both horrified and sympathetic, found themselves unsure if she'd continue.

But eventually she did, saying, "They make me… I not say share pleasures, because that not what happen. But they have pleasure and I have… pain. Pain in body and in mind. And then they all just leave me there by river bleeding… I not really know why I not die right there; I wanted to. But I not die and people from Cave find me, take me home, take me to Losaduna, our mamut, for healing. And body heal with time, but mind… mind not heal on its own. Even many days later, maybe whole moon cycle, I not know, I still not well. I… not want to live anymore. I just lay on sleeping platform, waiting to walk spirit world and not have to remember anymore. Mother, Verdegia, not know what to do; she think she lost a daughter. Losaduna have idea what to do, but I afraid of all men then and Losaduna man. Everybody scared but not know how to help me. And then Ayla and Jondalar come."

The members of Lion Camp, pulled into Madenia's tragedy as they were, immediately perked up at this, a few quiet cries of, "Ah!" and, "Of course!" being heard. Everyone present save the youngest remembered the young woman in question and her fair-haired mate and all the beneficial changes they'd wrought while living with the Mamutoi. It was no stretch of the imagination to any of them then that Ayla and Jondalar might have somehow assisted in the recovery of the woman before them.

"I not really know when they arrive," Madenia continued. "I still feeling too sorry for self, spending all day laying in bed. But one night, Ayla and Losaduna come to hearth, make me get out of bed. I not want to go, but something about Ayla make me trust her, make me know she just want to help so I do. They take me to special hot spring, most sacred, only for ceremonies. We all take off clothes, and I afraid again; not want to be naked with man then. But Ayla help again, get me to calm down. Then Losaduna do ceremony, clean me… no that not right. He not clean me, he clean my… spirit. Make me new again, like whole thing not happen. Take away filth young men do to me… It make me ready for First Rites again and make me not feel so bad anymore." She paused once more here, searching for the right words, and then added, "But I still not completely well. I still not ever want a man to touch me again."

There were numerous murmurs of sympathy from the audience at this and more than a few variations on, "Oh, that's too bad." All of those present, whether they could really imagine what Madenia had been through or not, could certainly appreciate just how grievously wrong it was to sour a brand new young woman to the Mother's Gift of Pleasures. After all, if a girl never had her First Rites, was never properly opened to the Mother's Gift of Life, how would she ever become a mother in her own turn? And in a time and place where each and every new human being was both a necessity and a blessing, there could be few greater crimes.

Madenia picked her tale up once more then with, "That the part Ayla and… maybe especially Jondalar help me with most. Before they come, I think Pleasures just cruel joke. I not see how anybody enjoy… what happen to me. But then… after I not lay around so much, start to… live again, I see more with Ayla and Jondalar. I see feeling… love between them. And they both treat me so nice; both pay attention to me, treat me like adult, not child. Jondalar, he treat me almost like little sister, concerned for me all the time… but not quite like little sister. He not do anything… improper for girl before First Rites, but he treat me like young woman, let me see I… attractive to him. I think he want in a way to do First Rites for me, that he wish he could be one to help me that way. I since find out about Jondalar's 'second craft' from traders and story-tellers coming from both east and west; he not just Master Toolmaker, he Master Woman-maker too!"

This provoked a burst of laughter from Madenia's audience and served to break the somewhat grim tone her tale had taken so far. Most of those assembled remembered Jondalar's escapades at the Mamutoi Summer Meeting all too well and similar jokes had been circulating about him for years now.

Once the laughter died down a bit, Madenia went on with, "Things not get that far, though. Ayla and Jondalar have to leave before Summer Meeting, need to cross glacier before summer. But by time they leave, I see enough that I want to have First Rites and I… know that Pleasures not cruel joke anymore. They show me this without even trying; they just love each other that much."

The audience nodded appreciatively at this, many of them misty-eyed by now as they recalled the depth of feeling they'd witnessed between the man and woman in question and considered the power that their love had had to heal the young woman in front of them.

Even Ranec, who Madenia suspected would least want to hear about Ayla and Jondalar's undying love if what she suspected were true, was nodding slowly, a small unreadable smile on his lips, a small boy half asleep on his lap and an attractive red-haired woman at his side. Well, Madenia thought, whatever had been between Ranec and Ayla, it appeared that he'd made peace with it and that had to be a good thing.

Then, that part of her story behind her and the audience apparently primed for more, Madenia began to consider once more how to proceed.


	24. Chapter 24

_Okay, Chapter 24 and a little more with Charmichael and our Zelandoni friends._

"_Something like that," Charmichael said a bit distantly. "More like improved; I'd already been remade a long time ago. The Myriad aren't the first threat my people have faced; they're just the worst so far. And, truth to tell, we were our own worst enemies for a long time; the very first creatures I was remade to fight were other human beings, I'm afraid." _

This comment was met with silence; none of the three Zelandoni were quite sure even what to ask the giant of a man. It had become apparent from what he'd already said that violence was far more common where and when he came from, but none of them had really thought about that kind of violence between human beings.

Of course they weren't exactly strangers to such things; there were always the Ataroas and Charolis of the world and many a young man participated in a raid or two before he matured and settled down. But they all sensed that the kind of conflict Charmichael was hinting at was something much larger and darker… In the end, they simply let the subject go and Charmichael declined to elaborate.

After a somewhat prolonged period of silence, Jondalar finally spoke up, saying as he looked about them slowly, "Well, it's still some time until evening, I think. I suppose I should inspect our gear, make sure nothing was lost or damaged when the horses bolted. And maybe I should go look for something small to hunt; no sense digging into our travel rations any more than we have to now that we're off the glacier."

This pronouncement sparked a glint of excitement in Jonayla's eyes and the precocious five-year-old said excitedly, "You're going hunting, Jonde'? Can I come along? You know I need practice with my sling!"

Jondalar considered this for a moment and then, smiling, said, "I think that would be fine, Jonayla. You probably have a much better chance of taking down a nice hare or a couple of birds with your sling than I would with a spearthrower. And I wouldn't say you need all that much practice; I've seen what you've been able to do with that thing lately!"

The little girl beamed at her father's praise and said, "Mama taught me a lot. And she makes me work hard on the practice field up behind the Cave."

Jondalar laughed at this and said, "Don't I know! I've seen the two of you at it there; I think you'd burn up the whole day at sling practice if you could!"

From where she half-sat, half-lay by the fire, Ayla said, "Sometimes we nearly have. But Jonayla loves learning the sling and I intend to make sure she does it right. One day her life could depend on that weapon; both of ours have at times."

Jondalar's brow creased slightly at this, though the smile remained on his lips and he said playfully, "Now why did you have to go and make this a serious conversation, woman? I was just enjoying a little light-heartedness with our daughter… but you're right of course. And she is very good with that weapon for her age."

"As it should be," Ayla said, pride evident in her voice. "And yes, I think it would be a good idea if she went with you. If you decide to hunt, that is."

Jondalar nodded at this and said, "I think I should once I've looked over the equipment. Nothing large, of course, just a little something for dinner. It really would be better than digging further into our traveling food."

Ayla nodded her agreement and said, "I think it's a good idea. And I'm sure I'll be fine here; I'll have both Wolf and Tony to watch over me. If I need more protection than that, I think the Mother herself will have to come to my aid."

Jondalar only nodded to this and headed off toward the horses, Jonayla in tow. From where he sat Charmichael said, "I don't think it'll come to that, at least not tonight. I'm hoping that the Myriad wore itself out for a little while anyway." Then, with a thoughtful expression and a grin he added, "Kind of strange to hear a man and a little girl talking about going out to find something small and furry to kill for dinner. That's probably not a conversation you'd hear too often where I come from."

Ayla cocked her head slightly, wincing as her collarbone shifted with the movement and said, "Really? Are children not encouraged to hunt until they're older than Jonayla, then?"

Shaking his head slowly, Charmichael said, "It's not that exactly. It wouldn't really matter how old the person was; not very many people hunt at all where I'm from. Nobody really has to and… well, let's just say there's a lot less wild land and wild life than there is here. Not to mention a lot more people. If everyone hunted, there wouldn't be nearly enough to go around."

Vaguely astonished by this, Ayla said, "Then what do your people eat? Surely they can't gather enough to survive on plants alone!"

"No," Charmichael said, "That wouldn't work either. And the truth is, we don't really 'gather' anymore either."

"You don't hunt or gather," Ayla said a bit incredulously. "Do your people eat at all? Or is that something else that your 'tools' have overcome?"

Charmichael chuckled at this and said, "Well, the truth is that some of us don't need to eat nearly as much as others. My body has… other ways of powering itself besides food. But I still need to eat occasionally at least; there's still enough meat on me that it needs replacement every so often. If you don't take anything in, there's nothing to replace it with. But most people in my time eat more or less the same way you do. Human beings have changed surprisingly little over all the years between us…"

"But if they don't hunt and they don't gather," Ayla said, perplexed, "what do they eat?"

"Up until not so long ago," Charmichael said, "I guess something called 'agriculture' was our main source of food." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then continued. "Agriculture involved deliberately planting the plants that we most liked in a specific place and then making sure that they were protected and grew to maturity. After that, those plants would be gathered in something called a 'harvest' and taken to be traded at what was called 'market'. The same was done for a few varieties of meat animals and birds, and by the time we got away from agriculture, only a very few people were doing it on a very large scale. Basically, those few people were growing all the food for everyone else and most people just traded for what they needed."

Ayla nodded slowly to this and said, "That makes a kind of sense, I suppose. But it's hard to believe that there were, or will be, I mean, people who do nothing but grow plants and animals for others to eat. That was their sole craft?"

"Not all of them," Charmichael said. "Especially not later, more toward the time I… left. We called those people 'farmers', and 'farming', which was what agriculture was usually called, used to be very hard work. Older methods of farming took more time, produced less food, and required a lot more physical effort. Those farmers didn't have time for much else if they wanted to keep themselves fed and have enough to trade for other things they wanted. Later, better tools came along that made farming faster, easier and produced a lot more food per area of land. Those farmers had more time to learn and practice other crafts besides farming."

Ayla shook her head, a bit confused again and said, "That sounds complicated. Why wouldn't this 'farmer' just hunt or gather whatever he needed for himself and his family? I can see why he'd want to grow things to trade with others, but why go hungry himself if he couldn't grow enough?"

Charmichael was silent for a moment, thinking about how to best explain and then continued. "The short answer to that is people, I guess. When farming started, hunting and gathering were still going on. But farming produced more food than hunting and gathering could and the more food there was, the more babies that were born. And eventually, humans being like any other animal, we expanded to the point where there were just too many people for the land to support in any other way but farming. If everyone had tried to hunt and gather, there'd have been nothing left long before everyone had enough to eat. And since we'd come to the point by then that no other animal on earth normally preyed on men, the only real limitation on growth became the food supply. Basically we were stuck with agriculture whether we liked it or not."

"That doesn't sound so bad so long as there were people willing to do this 'farming'," Ayla said thoughtfully. "It sounds like a lot more people could be born and be assured of having adequate food as they grew. Not every hunt goes as planned and you're not always able to find the plants you want. But if you grew those plants where you wanted and kept meat animals the way Jondalar and I keep the horses…"

Charmichael nodded slowly to this and said, "That's true, and as for you and those horses… well, I'm going to have a hard time convincing anyone at home about that, assuming I ever get back there. No one in my time ever guessed that horses or wolves had started living with people so early. In fact, I don't think what you've done is going to really catch on this time around. Everything we've ever learned has told us that wolves won't be tamed for thousands of years yet. And it'll be even longer before horses are regularly raised and used by men."

Ayla was vaguely perplexed by this and said only, "I wonder why? It's not like plenty of people haven't seen what can be done. And I know that others are starting to look for animals to raise. Are you sure that it will take so long before more people are keeping animals of their own?"

Charmichael considered for a moment and then said, "I can't really say anything for sure, Ayla. So much time separates this world from mine it's like an ocean; almost anything could be hiding in that much time. And believe me when I say that your horses and fire-stones and spear-throwers are far from the biggest things we've already found lurking under those waters."

Frowning, Ayla said, "What do you mean, Tony? I thought you said your people had never traveled in time before."

"We haven't," he answered. "But we have found plenty of things left over from the past; that's how we try to figure out how things used to be. Tools, bones, stones, paintings; all of those things sometimes survive even the amount of time that separates your world from mine. And other things, things… not made by human beings have survived much longer."

Again Ayla cocked her head, confused, and said, "Things not made by human beings? You're not talking about animals… do you mean things made by those creatures you were talking about before? Creatures from other worlds that are smart like people but…aren't human?"

Mildly shocked at the young woman's precociousness, Charmichael thought, 'Goddmn, this lady is smart! No wonder she's studying to be part of some religious order; what else would somebody that bright do in this day and age? Then again, her hubby and the little girl aren't exactly dummies either… you've got to stop underestimating these people, Charmichael. Especially if everybody else we meet is even close to this sharp…'

Aloud, he said, "That's it exactly, Ayla. There are peoples, 'races' we call them, that have been around a lot longer than we have. Some of them are still around… the Myriad are a good example, I guess. But some of those races are gone and all we have to tell us that they ever existed are the things they left behind. One of those races was the one we call the 'Elders'… in our language, a word that means very old ones. They were the first non-human race we ever found evidence of and they're still the oldest." Charmichael stopped there for a moment, considering and then continued.

"Imagine a thousand thousands. We call that number a 'million'. Now imagine a thousand millions. That number is a 'billion'. From what we've been able to tell, the things, the tools and equipment and… dwellings we've found that belonged to the Elders are all over two billion years old. And every piece we've ever come across seemed as new as the day it was made."

Ayla's eyes widened slightly at this and she said a subdued voice, "I can't even imagine a number that big. How can you possibly know whether anything is that old or not? And where did your people find these things? Jondalar and I are very well traveled people; there are only two others I know of who have traveled farther and one of those walks the spirit world now. We saw many strange, new things in all the distance we traveled but nothing that I can imagine being anything you just described. Nor have I ever heard of any such things. Surely someone would've found at least one of these things by now if they were as old as you say."

"Well, they probably would have," Charmichael said slowly, "if any of those things were here on Earth. But the nearest Elder things, 'artifacts' we say, are a few million… uh, days walk from here." He paused here again for a moment, organizing his thoughts and trying to figure the best way to get things across to Ayla.

Finally, he went ahead with, "You're familiar with the morning and evening stars? The brightest stars in the sky that appear only for a short time either before dawn or after sunset?"

Ayla nodded to this, unsure of where Charmichael was going on what seemed to be a complete tangent and said, "Yes, of course. There are certain… mysteries about the morning and evening stars that are sacred knowledge, known only to Those Who Serve. I've… learned about these. Or some of them at least."

Charmichael nodded, filing this little tidbit about ancient astronomy away for future reference, and said, "I think there are probably a lot more mysteries than Those Who Serve know about. For starts, the morning and evening stars are aren't two separate bodies; they're the same one seen in two different positions at two different times."

Surprisingly, Ayla just nodded to this and said, "Some of the Zelandonia believe that as well. They say that they're so similar to each other that either they must be one and the same or they must be twins, birthed by the Great Mother at the same time. Of course no one could prove either theory for sure."

Truly impressed now, Charmichael said, "Well, I'd prefer you kept it to yourself, but your Zelandonia are mostly right. The morning and evening stars are one and the same, but it isn't a star."

"Not a star?" Ayla said quizzically. "Then what is it?"

"Another world," Charmichael said. "The nearest world to Earth, in fact. But still very far away by any reasonable standard."

"Another world," Ayla breathed wonderingly. "And is it as you said? Is it a world like this one with plants and animals and thinking creatures? Is that where your Elders came from?"

Charmichael shook his head slowly and said, "No, it's not a world like Earth. We thought at one time that it was but… well, when we got a better look at it we figured out it wasn't. We call this world Venus; it's named for a… very great female spirit who was associated with love and… Pleasures in the legends of an ancient people called the Romans. They watched the other worlds that share our sun and had many legends about them and the spirits they associated with them." Charmichael paused here again for a moment and then continued.

"Anyway, we found out that Venus isn't much like Earth at all. It's about the same size, but that's about it. Venus is so hot at its surface that even some rocks melt; a human being would be cooked alive in about as much time as it takes to tell about it. The air there is so thick… well, standing on the surface of Venus would be like standing on the bottom of an ocean here on Earth. The air there presses on you and would crush an unprotected person just about as quick as the heat would cook you. That and the air there is different from the air here; you can breathe it but it doesn't do you any good; it's missing… certain essential things and you'd suffocate just like you would here if you couldn't get any air at all. Venus is pretty to look at from a distance but no fun at all to visit."

Ayla just stared into the distance, trying to imagine the hellish world Charmichael had described. Finally, shaking her head slowly, she said, "No, it doesn't sound very pleasant at all. But this is the world your Elders came from?"

Charmichael shook his head as well and said, "No, we don't think they came from Venus. More like they stopped off there for a while a long time ago. And at that time, over two billion years ago, we think Venus was probably a lot more like Earth. Cooler, maybe with breathable air, and almost certainly with water. Maybe even with life of its own. But it looks like the Elders were from a lot farther away originally, some world circling around some other star, we're sure. They were just here for a visit, it looks like; a Journey, I guess you'd say."

"A Journey between the stars," Ayla said wonderingly. "And I thought Jondalar and I had traveled!"

Charmichael chuckled in a good natured way and said, "It's all relative. The Elders had much more powerful tools than a couple of horses. Your Journey is just as impressive in its own way if you think about it in that light. And you were using a method of transportation that was far more advanced than anything anyone else had used before, right?"

Ayla nodded slowly, thinking of the year-long Journey she and Jondalar had made along the course of the Great Mother River from the point of view Charmichael had just suggested and finally said, "I suppose you're right. Certainly some of the people we met along the way couldn't have been more surprised if Jondalar and I had claimed to be from another world. In fact, I'm sure that some of them still believe we came from the spirit world; many strange things happened to us on that Journey."

"I can believe that," Charmichael said. "That's usually why people take long trips; all sorts of interesting things tend to happen along the way. And I guess that's why the Elders traveled the way they did. We've found evidence of them on a whole lot of worlds, just nothing quite like what we found on Venus…"

"And what did your people find there, Tony? You make it sound very impressive, whatever it was."

Charmichael nodded once more and said, "Impressive is the right word, I guess. What we found was… well I suppose you'd call it a dwelling. Or maybe a Camp; I think that's closer. Basically, we found an entire, intact temporary living site. Temporary by their standards, but good enough to last two billion years under those conditions… Inside, there were things that we couldn't even understand at the time. Tools and information and… well I can't even really describe it all. But it was as far ahead of us as… well, it was farther ahead of us than we were ahead of your people at that time. We were like a pack of rats trying to explore and understand the inside of one of your Caves; all we could even hope to understand were the most basic items. And so far we've spent almost five hundred years figuring out just some of the rest."


	25. Chapter 25

_Well, here's chapter 25, a short Durc and Ura bit. This is the last chapter I have 'pre-written', and with the new baby just home, it may be a little while before I can get around to another update. Still, this is very much a 'live' story so far as I'm concerned, so updates will follow just as soon as Real Life allows!_

_And then, blanching suddenly as an epiphany hit him, Durc stammered, "Ura, Broud is right! Maybe not for the right reasons, but… !" Then, focusing his gaze on his mate intently, Durc went on in a voice abruptly strong with conviction, "Ura, I don't know how to tell you this, but as quickly as we can, we need to prepare to leave this place. Not tonight, but as soon as possible. We have to leave this clan, or it may not survive to see summer!"_

Predictably, Ura's eyes flew open at this pronouncement and, if she'd had any idea whatsoever what to say her carefully crafted Clan reserve would surely have broken. As was, she never even had a chance to get that far; Durc was on his feet and on his way out of the hearth before Ura had entirely grasped what he'd just said.

For his part, Durc was headed toward the back of the cave and an all-too-familiar passage with purposeful strides, his mind a roiling mass of turmoil as the implications of the dream that he knew wasn't really a dream continued to reverberate and expand. He knew that the mog-ur had told him to stay at his hearth until called for and felt a vague sense of guilt at disobeying the older man but he also knew with crystal clarity that what he had to discuss couldn't wait. He was convinced that what he'd seen in his dream bore nothing but ill for the clan and had to be acted upon as soon as possible.

As he entered the spirit cave, Durc spied the mog-ur sitting cross-legged in front of Great Ursus' skull, his head bowed and eyes closed in a pose of inner contemplation. Obviously he'd entered a deeper meditation on the night's events, possibly even aided by some herbal concoction. Again Durc felt a twinge of guilt, hating to interrupt his mentor while he was in such a state but he knew that it had to be done and he was sure that, once he'd heard what Durc had to say Goov would agree.

Moving a bit hesitantly, Durc approached the seated man and, placing a hand carefully on his shoulder quietly said his name. "Goov?"

The older man started slightly at this, obviously not expecting to be interrupted in whatever realm his mind was working in and then, turning, slowly focused on the younger man in front of him.

"Durc," he said slowly and with a bit of confusion. "What are you doing here? You should still be at your hearth."

Dropping smoothly to sit in front of the other man, Durc replied a bit sheepishly, "This man is sorry for failing to follow the mog-ur's instructions but- something important has happened, Goov. Something that couldn't wait to be discussed."

Scowling slightly, the mog-ur said, "This isn't anything to do with Broud, is it? He hasn't… done anything, has he?"

Making a sign of negation, Durc said quickly, "No, mog-ur, nothing like that. I haven't even seen the leader since we left this cave; perhaps he's gone off to contemplate matters by himself as well. But what I have to discuss with you certainly involves the leader and… his wishes in this matter."

Perplexed now, the mog-ur said, "You're speaking in circles, Durc. Please, stop tiptoeing around whatever it is you need to say to me and let us get whatever it is out into the open. By your manner I gather that this is a serious matter in your opinion."

Durc nodded and said, "Yes, mog-ur. I wouldn't have interrupted your meditations if not." And then, after a slight pause he continued with, "I- had a dream, mog-ur. When I reached my hearth I was so exhausted that I fell asleep as soon as Grev helped me to my furs and- I had a dream that I know was no dream."

His scowl deepening, Goov said, "You believe you had a vision then, something from the spirit world."

Durc nodded again and said, "Yes, mog-ur. I'm certain it was a vision, a true seeing, and- mog-ur, it was the most horrible thing I've ever seen! It was a vision of blood and pain and death! Death for this entire clan! And worst of all- worst of all, I was its instrument. I saw- mog-ur, I believe what I saw was what would have happened if the unclean spirit had taken me." Then, in a smaller and far more troubled voice he added, "What could still happen all too easily, I'm afraid."

Goov rocked back slightly at this, the implications of Durc's words percolating through his mind in layers. After several seconds of contemplation, he said, "You don't believe the spirit has given up. You think it will come again."

Staring earnestly at the older man, Durc said in a deeply troubled tone, "That's just it, mog-ur; I don't know. But I do know the- desperation I felt from the thing when it attacked me and the… sheer malice when I drove it away. It wanted me so badly… I can't imagine it won't try again if it can. And if I can't push it away again, if I fail… mog-ur, I've seen what will happen. This clan will die."

The mog-ur felt a chill creep up his spine at Durc's words, at the utter certainty behind them. In that moment he had no doubt that the boy had seen something real through his dreams and that it was every bit as horrible as he said. But that left a large question open in Goov's mind. "What do you propose to do then, Durc? It's obvious that you have something in mind."

The younger man was silent for several moments, a sure sign that whatever he was about to say wasn't easy for him. Finally he said, "That's just it, mog-ur. What I know has to be done, the only right thing to do, has already been proposed." He paused for a moment more and then said, "Whatever his reasons, right or wrong, Broud had the right idea. I- have to leave this clan. And I believe Ura has to come with me."

Nodding slowly, a resigned look on his face, Goov said, "I thought it might be something like that. But why Ura? She's only a woman after all. Do you truly think this spirit would have any interest in her?"

Durc shook his head slowly and said, "I truly don't know, mog-ur. But we both know, regardless of what anyone else might say, that she and I are more than just identically deformed. Both of us carry some part of the Others inside of us and perhaps that's what this… entity is attracted to. Or perhaps not; but it doesn't really matter, mog-ur. If you'd seen what I'd seen, you'd know that we can take no chances with this thing. One mistake in this will spell death for everyone in this cave. If preventing that means turning one man and his pregnant mate out into the winter cold then that's a price I'm willing to pay, mog-ur." And then, after a short pause for thought he added, "But don't think that means I intend to simply give up and go lie in the snow to die. No, mog-ur, I intend to leave but I don't intend to be Cursed. I think we can talk our leader out of that if we simply agree to go."

With a contemplative look on his face Goov said, "You may be right about that, Durc. But what then? Where will you go and what will you do?"

As it happened, Durc had been thinking these very thoughts himself since the moment he'd realized the need to leave and the answers he'd come up with had surprised him every bit as much as he expected they'd surprise Goov. Aloud he said, "We will go north, mog-ur. Away from the peninsula and the lands of the Clan and towards those of the Others."

Bridling slightly, Goov blurted, "Towards the Others? For what possible reason, Durc?"

Pausing to gather his thoughts for a moment, Durc finally said, "It's- a feeling more than anything else, mog-ur. An intuition, if you will. We don't know for sure whether the spirit's interest in me is related to my connection to the Others, but I'm certain it has to do with some aspect of my- differences. It only seems to make sense to me to see what I can learn of this from the Others, if they know anything of this beast that we don't. As I said, mog-ur, I don't intend to just lie down and die somewhere with my mate and her unborn child; I intend to find a way to deal with this spirit and perhaps, someday, even return to my home."


	26. Chapter 26

_**Okay, sorry this has taken so long, but I haven't exactly been well the last few months and believe me when I say this is about the first opportunity I've had to add to this for a while. No idea when the next installment may be coming, but please stay tuned and hopefully I'll be able to get something more out there soon.**_

_Then, that part of her story behind her and the audience apparently primed for more, Madenia began to consider once more how to proceed._

In the end, she found that the only way she knew to go on was the same way she'd begun; she simply picked a point in time and a subject that she thought these people would want to hear about and began to speak.

"After Ayla and Jondalar leave, I… very not happy again for a while; I miss them. I not as sad as before, though, and get over soon. Not long after, we have Summer Meeting and I… have First Rites. Not easy; part of me still afraid and think about Charoli and other men. But thinking about Ayla and Jondalar instead get me through and man chosen by Losadunai… well, he not Jondalar but I think he next best thing. Make me feel very … not scared? Very not scared before and very special after. I still grateful and we still good friends."

She paused here, collecting her thoughts once more and then continued with, "I not see Ayla and Jondalar since they leave but as I say before I hear stories from travelers."

The assembled Camp perked up at this statement, obviously anticipating any news about their long-departed kinswoman and her mate. Madenia paused slightly for effect then, letting the anticipation build slightly as Losaduna had trained her before continuing.

"They make it back over glacier safely I hear and all the way back to Ninth Cave of Zelandoni. They mate and settle there with Jondalar's family and, from what I hear, Ayla Blessed again when they arrive!"

This brought several exclamations of surprise and joy from the crowd and once it had died down Madenia continued with, "She give birth to healthy daughter, I hear, and everything okay with new family. I also hear that Ayla training with Zelandonii, like Mammoth Hearth or Losadunai; she maybe going to be One Who Serve!"

This brought a few "Oh's!" and "Ah's" from the crowd, though Madenia noticed not from the old Mamut who only nodded sagely at her pronouncement; apparently it came as no shock to him that Ayla seemed to be on the path of Those Who Serve…

Picking up her narrative once more, Madenia said, "That all I really know about Ayla and Jondalar; I not see again after they leave, only hear stories. But someday I want Journey west instead of east; I want to see them again and now I can give them news about friends and family they not see for long time."

Madenia paused here again and looked to Talut, feeling that perhaps she'd said enough for the time being and should pass the center of attention on to someone else. But the look on Talut's face said that he and Lion Camp would be having none of that and aloud he said, "I'm sure that Ayla and Jondalar would be grateful for anything you might be able to tell them about us. We're certainly grateful for what you've told us! But I think what you've said so far is really just the prelude; we still don't know how you've come to be here or where you acquired that rather handsome mare you brought with you. I think those would be tales worth hearing, don't you think so everyone?"

Talut's call to the crowd was answered by a chorus of affirmative answers and Madenia realized with an odd mixture of shyness and anticipation that her foray into story-telling wasn't over yet. After pondering and taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she continued.

"Well, I guess I tell about Shadow first… It start three year ago when I go with hunting party on trip out to steppes. It one of first real hunts I go on, I only fourteen years then, but it turn out to be one of biggest things I ever do, I guess… We stalking small herd of aurochs, not horse if you wonder, and then find something… out of place. First we find signs of struggle, chase; look like pack of wolves chase down some hoofed animal, maybe horse or onager. We not follow trail far until we find what left of carcass, look like horse but not much left to tell."

She paused for a moment here both for effect and to gather her thoughts and then said, "We also find more tracks, smaller ones around carcass and on top of wolf tracks, like they made after wolves done with kill. It not hard to figure out tracks made by baby animal, probably baby of animal wolves kill. How it not get caught by wolves we not able to figure but tracks say it come after they gone, looking for mother we think. That seem sad to me, baby animal looking for mother and finding only bones and scraps."

There were a number of sympathetic comments from the audience at this, telling Madenia that she'd managed to convey the proper impression and then she continued with, "Others just see this as practice tracking; they not think much of it. Wolves kill horses and onagers all the time so what big deal, right? But I not think that way; I not able to get little lost horse out of head. I keep wondering where it at now and what it do with mother dead; I wonder if it even still alive or maybe already eaten by wolves too. And more I think more I want to do something… I guess it because of Ayla and horses that idea come to me but I remember how she say she find Whinney and raise after killing her mother for food. I think then that if I can find little horse maybe I can take too, raise like Ayla did…"

Madenia paused once more, gauging the reactions and found her audience rapt; obviously they wanted to hear what came next even if they could already guess everything but the details. After a few moments she continued with, "Others think I strange for trying to track down baby horse; think I wasting time. But I not stop when they say this, I just go on tracking. It take me long time, most of day to follow trail but little horse really not that far away when I find. She not want to go far from mother, I think, only make long, winding trail around carcass, probably try to keep away from wolves. I finally see from distance but she scared, run away. I not chase, not want make her run farther but then have to think how to get close. Finally I remember something Ayla say about when she find Whinney, something about getting mother's smell on her and that… fooling little horse into trusting her at least a little. I backtrack then, go back to carcass, find some dung and other things and rub on self. Then I go back where I find baby horse and track down again; by now it almost dark."

She paused here once more, gathering her thoughts and then continued with, "I come around from upwind this time; I want make sure baby horse catch smell. This seem work; she perk up, sniff air and not act scared, more… interested instead. I give her little time then start to move toward. I not bore with all details but I eventually reach horse, not scare her away. I guess smell familiar enough to her and with nothing else to do she come with me when I… coax? Coax her."

Madenia paused for just a beat and, grinning continued with, "It take until late at night to get back to camp and everyone worried when I get there but the looks on faces! That make it worth it! Baby horse probably last thing they expect to see, following me like small child!"

Madenia's audience chuckled appreciatively at this, the mental image clear to them and their own recollections of the arrival of both Ayla's horses and Latie's Amber fresh in their minds.

"After that, not so much to tell," Madenia added once the audience had settled down again. "I take horse back to cave even if others think I… more than little bit strange. And when we get back to Cave… well, I not think I need to tell. But since everyone seen Whiney and Racer, they get over surprise pretty quick."

Madenia paused for a moment before continuing with, "I name horse Shadow because of color, and I raise her like Ayla say she raise Whiney and Racer. Leaders of Cave not sure this good idea at first, but Losaduna speak for me, tell them it maybe good… practice for me. This good enough for them and when Shadow bigger, can do more work, they not unhappy at all. Shadow big help to me and to whole Cave." And then, glancing toward the drape to the horse annex, she added, "But I guess you already know that."

Then, knowing that everyone wanted to hear more, wanted to hear what had brought both Madenia and Shadow to the lands of the Mamutoi, Madenia made a quick decision that she hoped would be received in the proper spirit. Figuring that she'd said enough for at least a little while and realizing that there was someone else who had a story to tell, she said, "I know you want hear how I get here but there somebody else who need say same thing and I think it her turn now. I say more when she done if you still want hear."

Then, turning slightly she directed an expectant look toward the only other stranger in the room and said expectantly, "Joanne?"


End file.
